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UNDINE 


AND 


OTHER TALES. 


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TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY F. E. BUNNETT. 


NEW YORK: 

A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER. 




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THE THREE TRAVELERS HAD REACHED IN SILENCE THE DENSEST SHADES OF THE 

FOREST. [Page 4a 


CONTENTS 


Page. 


Undine 1 

The Two Captains 93 

Aslauga’s Knight 149 


SiNTRAM AND HiS COMPANIONS. 


195 







DEDICATION 


Undine, tEou image fair and blest, 

Since first tby strange mysterious glance, 
Sbone on me from some old romance. 

How hast thou sung my heart to rest! 

How hast thou clung to me and smiled. 
And wouldest, whispering in my ear, 
Give vent to all thy miseries drear, 

A little half-spoiled timorous child 1 

Yet hath my zither caught the sound. 

And breathed from out its gates of gold. 
Each gentle word thy lips have told. 

Until their fame is spread around. 

And many a heart has loved thee well. 

In spite of every wayward deed, 

And many a one will gladly read. 

The pages which thy history tell. 

I catch the whispered hope expressed. 

That thou should’st once again appear; 
So cast aside each doubt and fear. 

And come. Undine! thou spirit blest ! 

Greet every noble in the hall. 

And greet ’fore all, with trusting air. 

The beauteous women gathered there; 

I know that thou art loved by all. 

And if one ask thee after me, 

Say: he’s a true and noble knight, 

Fair woman’s slave in song and fight 

And in all deeds of chivalry. 





UNDINE. 


CHAPTER 1. 

HOW THE KNIGHT CAME TO THE FISHERMAN. 

There was once, it may be now many hundred years 
ago, a good old fisherman, who was sitting one fine even- 
ing before his door, mending his nets. The part of the 
country in which he lived was extremely pretty. The 
greensward, on which his cottage stood, ran far into the 
lake, and it seemed as if it was from love for the blue 
clear waters that the tongue of land had stretched itself 
out into them, while with an equally fond embrace the 
lake had encircled the green pasture rich with waving 
grass and flowers, and the refreshing shade of trees. The 
one welcomed the other, and it was just this that made 
each so beautiful. There were indeed few human beings, 
or rather none at all, to be met with on this pleasant spot, 
except the fisherman and his family. For at the back of 
this little promontory there lay a very wild forest, which, 
both from its gloom and pathless solitude as well as from 
the wonderful creatures and illusions with which it was 
said to abound, was avoided by most people except in 
cases of necessity. 

The pious old fisherman, however, passed through it 
many a time undisturbed, when he was taking the choice 
fish, which he had caught at his beautiful home, to a large 
town situated not far from the confines of the forest. The 



2 


UNDINE. 


principal reason why it was so easy for him to pass through 
this forest was because the tone of his thoughts was almost 
entirely of a religious character, and besides this, whenever 
he set foot upon the evil reputed shades, he was w'ont 
to sing some holy song, with a clear voice and a sincere 
heart. 

While sitting over his nets this evening, unsuspicious of 
any evil, a sudden fear came upon him, at the sound of a 
rustling in the gloom of the forest, as of a horse and rider, 
the noise approaching nearer and nearer to the little prom- 
ontory. All that he had dreamed, in many a stormy 
night, of the mysteries of the forest, now flashed at once 
through his mind; foremost of all, the image of a gigantic 
snow-white man, who kept unceasingly nodding his head 
in a portentous manner. Indeed, when he raised his eyes 
toward the wood it seemed to him as if he actually saw the 
nodding man approaching through the dense foliage. He 
soon, however, reassured himself, reflecting that nothing se- 
, rious had ever befallen him even in the forest itself, and that 
upon this open tongue of land the evil spirit would be still 
less daring in the exercise of his power. At the same time 
he repeated aloud a text from the Bible with all his heart, 
and this so inspired him with courage that he almost smiled 
at the illusion he had allowed to possess him. The white 
npdding man was suddenly transformed into a brook long 
familiar to him, which ran foaming from the forest and 
discharged itself into the lake. The noise, however, which 
he had heard, was caused by a knight beautifully appar- 
elled, who, emerging from the deep shadows of the wood, 
came riding toward the cottage. A scarlet mantle was 
thrown over his purple gold-embroidered doublet; a red 
and violet plume waved from his golden-colored head-gear; 
and a beautiful and richly ornamented sword flashed from 
his shoulder-belt. The white steed that bore the knight 
was more slenderly formed than war - horses generally 


VNDINE. 


3 


are, and he stepped so lightly over the turf that this 
green and flowery carpet seerne^ scarcely to receive the 
slightest injury from his tread. 

The old fisherman did not, however, feel perfectly secure 
in his mind, although he tried to convince himself that no 
evil was to be feared from so graceful an apparition; and 
therefore he politely took off his hat as the knight ap- 
proached, and remained quietly with his nets. 

Presently the stranger drew up, and inquired whether 
he and his horse could have shelter and care for the night. 

As regarrls your horse, good sir,^’ replied the fisherman, 
can assign him no better stable than this shady pasture, 
and no better provender than the grass growing on it. 
Yourself, however, I will gladly welcome to my small cot- 
tage, and give you supper and lodging as good as we 
have.” The knight was well satisfied with this ; he 
alighted from his horse, and, with the assistance of the 
fisherman, he relieved it from saddle and bridle, and 
turned it loose upon the flowery green. Then addressing 
his host, he said: Even had 1 found you less hospitable 
and kindly disposed, my worthy old fisherman, you would 
nevertheless scarcely have got rid of me to-day, for, as I 
see, a broad lake lies before us, and to ride back into that 
mysterious wood, with the shades of evening coming on, 
heaven keep me from it!” 

We will not talk too much of that,” said the fisher- 
man, and he led his guest into the cottage. 

There, beside the hearth, from which a scanty fire shed 
a dim light through the cleanly-kept room, sat the fisher- 
rnan^s aged wife in a capacious chair. At the entrance of 
the noble guest she rose to give him a kindly welcome, but. 
resumed her seat' of honor without offering it to the 
stranger. Upon this the fisherman said with a smile: 

You must not take it amiss of her, young sir, that she 
has not given up to you the most comfortable seat in the 



i 


4 


UNDINE. 


house; it is a custom among poor people, that it should 
belong exclusivel}^ to the aged."" 

‘^Why, husband,"" said the wife, with a quiet smile, 

what can you be thinking of ? Our guest belongs no 
doubt to Christian men, and how could it come into the 
head of the good young blood to drive old people from 
their chairs? Take a seat my young master,"" she con- 
tinued, turning toward the knight; ^^over there, there is 
a right pretty little chair, only you must not move about 
on it too roughly, for one of its legs is no longer of the 
firmest."" The knight fetched the chair carefully; sat 
down upon it good-humoredly, and it seemed to him as if 
he were related to this little household, and had just re- 
turned from abroad. 

The three worthy people now began to talk together in 
the most friendly and familiar manner. With regard to 
the forest, about which the knight made some inquiries, 
the old man was not inclined to be communicative; he 
felt it was not a subject suited to approaching night, but 
the aged couple spoke freely of their home and former 
life, and listened also gladly when the knight recounted 
to them his travels, and told them that he had a castle near 
the source of the Danube, and that his name was Sir Huld- 
brand of Ringstetten. During the conversation, the 
stranger had already occasionally heard a splash against 
the little low window, as if some one were sprinkling water 
against it. Every time the noise occurred, the old man 
knit his brow with displeasure; but when at last a whole 
shower was dashed against the panes, and bubbled into 
the room through the decayed casement, he rose angrily, 
and called threateningly from the window: ^‘Undine! will 
you for once leave off these childish tricks? and to-day, 
besides, there is a stranger knight with us in the cottage."" 
All was silent without, only a suppressed laugh was audi- 
ble, and the fisherman said as he returned: You must 


UNDINE. 


5 


pardon it in her, my honored guest, and perhaps many a 
naughty trick besides; but she means no harm by it. It 
is our foster-child. Undine, and she will not wean herself 
from this childishness, although she has already entered 
her eighteenth year. But, as I said, at heart she is thor- 
oughly good.” 

‘‘You may well talk,” replied the old woman, shaking 
her head; “when you come home from fishing or from a 
journey, her frolics may then be very delightful, hut to 
have her about one the whole day long, and never to hear 
a sensible word, and instead of finding her a help in the 
housekeeping as she grows older, always to be obliged to 
be taking care that her follies do not completely ruin us, 
that is quite another thing, and the patience of a saint 
would be worn out at last.” 

“Well, well,” said her husband with a smile, “you 
have your troubles with Undine, and I have mine with the 
lake. It often breaks away my dams, and tears my nets 
to pieces, but for all that, I have an atlection for it, and 
so have you for the pretty child, in spite of all your crosses 
and vexations. Isn’t it so?” 

“ One can’t be very angry with her, certainly,” said the 
old woman, and she smiled approvingly. 

Just then the door flew open, and a beautiful, fair girl 
glided laughing into the room, and said: “ You have only 
been jesting, father, for where is your guest?” 

At the same moment, however, she perceived the 
knight, and stood fixed with astonishment before the 
handsome youth. Huldbrand was struck with her charm- 
ing appearance, and dwelt the more earnestly on her lovely 
features, as he imagined it was only her surprise that gave 
him this brief enjoyment, and that she would presently 
turn from his gaze with increased bashfulness. It was, 
however, quite otherwise; for after having looked at him 
for some time, she drew near him confidingly, knelt down 


6 


UNDINE, 


before him, and said, as she played with a gold medal which 
he wore on his breast, suspended from a rich chain: 

Why, you handsome, kind guest, how have you come to 
our poor cottage at last? Have you been obliged then to 
wander through the world for years, before you could find 
your way to us? Do you come out of that wild forest, my 
beautiful knight?’^ The old woman^s reproof allowed 
him no time for reply. She admonished the girl to stand 
up and behave herself and to go to her work. Undine, 
however, without making any answer drew a little foot- 
stool close to Huldbrand's chair, sat down upon it with 
her spinning, and said pleasantly: I will work here.^^ 
The old man did as parents are wont to do with spoiled 
children. He affected to observe nothing of Undine’s 
naughtiness and was beginning to talk of something else. 
But this the girl would not let him do; she said: have 

asked our charming guest whence he comes, and he has 
not yet answered me.” 

“I come from the forest, you beautiful little vision,” 
returned Huldbrand; and she w’ent on to say: 

Then you must tell me how you came there, for it is 
usually so feared, and what marvelous adventures you met 
with in it, for it is impossible to escape without something 
of the sort.” 

Huldbrand felt a slight shudder at this remembrance, 
and looked involuntarily toward the window, for it seemed 
to him as if one of the strange figures he had encountered 
in the forest were grinning in there; but he saw nothing 
but the deep dark night, which had now shrouded every- 
thing without. Upon this he composed himself and was 
on the point of beginning his little history, when the old 
man interrupted him by saying: ^^Not so, sir knight! 
this is no fit hour for such things.” Undine, how^ever, 
sprang angrily from her little stool, and standing straight 
before the fisherman with her fair arms fixed in her sides, 


UNDINE. 


7 

she exclaimed He shall not tell his story, father? He 
shall not? but it is my will. He shall! He shall in spite of 
you and thus saying she stamped her pretty little foot 
vehemently on the floor, but she did it all with such a comi- 
cally graceful air that Huldbrand now felt his gaze almost 
more riveted upon her in her anger than before in her 
gentleness. 

The restrained wrath of the old man, on the contrary, 
burst forth violently. He severely reproved Undine's 
disobedience and unbecoming beliavior to the stranger, 
and his good old wife joined with him heartily. Undine 
quickly retorted: If you want to chide me, and won't 
do what I wish, then sleep alone in your old smoky hut!" 
and swift as an arrow she flew from the room, and fled 
into the dark night. 


CHAPTER II. 

m WHAT WAY UHDIHE HAD COME TO THE FISHERMAH. 

Huldbrahd and the fisherman sprang from their seats 
and were on the point of following the angry girl. Be- 
fore they reached the cottage door, however. Undine had 
long vanished in the shadowy darkness without, and not 
even the sound of her light footstep betrayed the direction 
of her flight. Huldbrand looked inquiringly at his host; 
it almost seemed to him as if the whole sweet apparition, 
which had suddenly merged again into the night, were 
nothing else than one of that band of the wonderful forms 
which had, but a short time since, carried on their pranks 
with him in the forest. But the old man murmured be- 
tween his teeth: ^‘This is riot the first time that she has 
treated us in this way. Now we have aching hearts and 
sleepless eyes the whole night through; for who knows, 
that she may not Some d^jjlpome ta harm, if -she is thus 
out alone in the dark until daylight." 


8 


UNDINE. 


Then let us for God^s sake follow lier/^ cried Huld- 
brand, anxiously. 

‘‘ What would be the good of it?” replied the old man. 

It would be a sin were I to allow you, all alone, to follow 
the foolish girl in the solitary night, and my old limbs 
would not overtake the wild runaway, even if we knew in 
what direction she had gone.” 

^^We had better at any rate call after her, and beg 
her to come back,” said Huldbrand; and he began 
to call in the most earnest manner: ‘^Undine! Undine! 
Pray come back !” The old man shook his head, 
saying, that all that shouting would help but little, 
for the knight had no idea how self-willed the little truant 
was. But still he could not forbear often calling out with 
him in the dark night: ^‘Undine! Ah! dear Undine, I beg 
you to come back — only this once!” 

It turned out, however, as the fisherman had said. No 
Undine was to be heard or seen, and as the old man would 
on no account consent that Huldbrand should go in search 
of the fugitive, they were at last both obliged to return to 
the cottage. Here they found the fire on the hearth 
almost gone out, and the old wife, who took Undine’s 
■flight and danger far less to heart than her husband, had 
already retired to rest. The old man blew up the fire, 
laid some dry wood on it, and by the light of the flame 
sought out a tankard of wine, which he placed between 
himself and his guest. You, sir knight,” said he, '‘are 
also anxious about that silly girl, and we would both rather 
chatter and drink away a part of the night than keep 
turning round on our rush mats trying in vain to sleep. 
Is it not so?” Huldbrand was well satisfied with the plan; 
the fisherman obliged him to take the seat of honor vacated 
by the good old housewife, and both drank and talked to- 
gether in a manner becoming two honest and trusting 
men. It is true, as often as the slightest thing moved 


UNDINE, 


9 


before the windows, or even at times when nothing was 
moving, one of the two would look up and say: *^She is 
coming!” Then they would be silent for a moment or two, 
and as nothing appeared, they would shake their heads and 
sigh and go on with their talk. 

As, however, neither could think of anything but of 
Undine, they knew of nothing better to do than that the 
old fisherman should tell the story, and the knight should 
hear, in what manner Undine had first come to the cot- 
tage. He therefore began as follows: 

‘^It is now about fifteen years ago that I was one day 
crossing the wild forest with my goods, on my way to the 
city. My wife had stayed at home, as her wont is, and at 
this particular time for a very good reason, for God had 
given us, in our tolerably advanced age, a wonderfully 
beautiful child. It was a little girl; and a question already 
arose between us, whether for the sake of the new-comer, 
we would not leave our lovely home that we might better 
bring up this dear gift of heaven in some more habitable 
place. Poor people indeed cannot do in such cases as you 
may think they ought, sir knight, but, with God^s bless- 
ing, every one must do what he can. Well, the matter 
was tolerably in my head as I went along. This slip of 
land was so dear to me, and I shuddered when, amid the 
noise and brawls of the city, I thought to myself, ' In such 
scenes as these, or in one not much more quiet, thou wilt 
also soon make thy abode T But at the same time I did 
not murmur against the good God; on the contrary, I 
thanked him in secret for the new-born babe; I should be 
telling a lie, too, were I to say, that on my journey through 
the wood, going or returning, anything befell me out of 
the common way, and at that time I had never seen any of 
its fearful wonders. The Lord was ever with me in those 
m3^sterious shades.” 

As he spoke he took his little cap from his bald head. 


10 


UNDINE, 


and remained for a time occupied with prayerful thoughts; 
he then covered himself again, and continued: 

On this side the forest, alas ! a sorrow awaited me. 
My wife came to meet me with tearful eyes and clad in 
mourning. ^Oh! Good God!’ I groaned, ^ where is our 
dear child? speak T ^ With him on whom you have 
called, dear husband,^ she replied ; and we now entered 
the cottage together weeping silently. I looked around for 
the little corpse, and it was then only that I learned how 
it had all happened. 

^^My wife had been sitting with the child on the edge of 
the lake, and as she was playing with it, free of all fear 
and full of happiness, the little one suddenly bent forward, 
as if attracted by something very beautiful in the water. 
My wife saw her laugh, the dear angel, and stretch out her 
little hands; but in a moment she had sprung out of her 
mother’s arms, and had sunk beneath the watery mirror. 
I sought long for our little lost one; but it was all in vain; 
there was no trace of her to be found. 

•'^The same evening we, childless parents, were sitting 
silently together in the cottage; neither of us had any 
desire to talk, even had our tears allowed us. We sat 
gazing into the fire on the hearth. Presently, we heard 
something rustling outside the door; it fiew open, and a 
beautiful little girl three or four years old, richly dressed, 
stood on the threshold smiling at us. We were quite dumb 
with astonishment, and I knew not at first whether it were 
a vision or a reality. But I saw the water dripping from 
her golden hair and rich garments, and I perceived that 
the pretty child had been lying in the water, and needed 
help. ^ Wife,’ said I, ^ no one has been able to save our 
dear child; yet let us at any rate do for others what would 
have made us so blessed.’ We undressed the little one, 
put her to bed, and gave her something warm; at all this 
she spoke not a word, and only fixed her eyes, that 


UNDINE. 


11 


reflected the blue of the lake and of the sky, smilingly 
upon us. Next morning we quickly perceived that she had 
taken no harm from her wetting, and I now inquired 
about her parents, and how she had come here. But 
she gave a confused and strange account. She must 
have been born far from here, not only because for these 
fifteen years I have not been able to find out anything of 
her parentage, but because she then spoke, and at times 
still speaks, of such singular things that such as we are 
cannot tell but that she may have dropped upon us from 
the moon. She talks of golden castles, of crystal domes, 
and heaven knows what besides. The story that she told 
with most distinctness was, that she was out in a boat 
with her mother on the great lake, and fell into the water, 
and that she only recovered her senses here under the 
trees where she felt herself quite happy on the merry 
shore. We had still a great misgiving and perplexity 
weighing on our heart. We had, indeed, soon decided to 
keep the child we had found and to bring her up in the 
place of our lost darling; but who could tell us whether she 
had been baptized or not? She herself could give us no 
information on the matter. She generally ansvvered our 
questions by saying that she well knew she was created 
for God’s praise and glory, and that she was ready to let 
us do with her whatever would tend to His honor and 
glory. 

^^My wife and I thought that if she were not baptized, 
there was no time for delay, and that if she were, a good 
thing could not be repeated too often. And in pursuance 
of this idea, we reflected upon a good name for the child, 
for we now were often at a loss to know what to call her. 
We agreed at last that Dorothea would be the most suitable 
for her, for I once heard that it meant a gift of God, and 
she had surely been sent to us by God as a gift and comfort 
in our misery. She, on the other hand, would not hear 


12 


UNDINE. 


of this, and told us that she thought she had been called 
Undine by her parents, and that Undine she wished still 
to. be called. Now this appeared to me a heathenish name, 
not to be found in any calendar, and I took counsel there- 
fore of a priest in the city. He also would not hear of the 
name of Undine, but at my earnest request he came with 
me through the mysterious forest in order to perform the 
rite of baptism here in my cottage. The little one stood 
before us so prettily arrayed and looked so charming that 
the priest’s heart was at once moved within him, and she 
flattered him so prettily, and braved him so merrily, that 
at last he could no longer remember the objections he had 
had ready against the name of Undine. She was therefore 
baptized ‘Undine,’ and during the sacred ceremony ghe 
behaved with great propriety and sweetness, wild and 
restless as she invariably was at other times. For my wife 
was quite right when she said that it has been hard to put 

up with her. If I were to tell you ^ 

The knight interrupted the fisherman to draw his atten- 
tion to a noise, as of a rushing flood of waters, which had 
caught his ear during the old man’s talk, and which now 
burst against the cottage-window with redoubled fury. 
Both sprang to the door. There they saw, by the light of 
the now risen moon, the brook which issued from the 
wood, widely overflowing its banks, and whirling away 
stones and branches of trees in its sweeping course. The 
storm, as if awakened by the tumult, burst forth from the 
mighty clouds which passed rapidly across the moon; the 
lake roared under the furious lashing of the wind; the 
trees of the little peninsula groaned from root to topmost 
bough, and bent, as if reeling, over the surging waters. 
“ Undine! for Heaven’s sake. Undine!” cried the two men 
in alarm. No answer was returned, and regardless of 
every other consideration, they ran out of the cottage, 
one in this direction, and the other in that, searching and 
calling. 


UNDINE, 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

HOW THEY FOUKD UKDIl^E AGAIK. 

The longer Hulclbrand sought Undine beneath the 
shades of night, and failed to find her, the more anxious 
and confused did he become. The idea that Undine had 
been only a mere apparition of the forest, again gained 
ascendancy over him ; indeed, amid the howling of the 
waves and the tempest, the cracking of the trees, and the 
complete transformation of a scene lately so calmly beauti- 
ful, he could almost have considered the whole peninsula 
with its cottage and its inhabitants as a mocking illusive 
.vision; but from afar he still overheard through the tumult 
the fisherman's anxious call for Undine, and the loud pray- 
ing and singing of his aged wife. At length he came close 
to the brink of the swollen stream, and saw in the moonlight 
how it had taken its wild course directly in front of the 
haunted forest, so as to change the peninsula into an 
island. ^^Oh Cod he thought to himself, ^‘if Undine 
has ventured a step into that fearful forest, perhaps in her 
charming willfulness, just because I was not allowed to 
tell her about it ; and now the stream may be rolling 
between us, and she may be weeping on the other side 
alone, among phantoms and specters!’^ A cry of horror 
escaped him, and he clambered down some rocks and 
overthrown pine-sterns, in order to reach the rushing 
stream and by wading or swimming to seek the fugitive on 
the other side. He remembered all the awful and won- 
derful things which he had encountered, even by day, under 
the now rustling and roaring branches of the forest. Above 
all it seemed to him as if a tall man in white, whom he 
knew but too well, was grinning and nodding on the op- 
posite shore; but it was just these monstrous forms which 


14 


UNDINE, 


forcibly impelled him to cross the flood, as the thought 
seized him that Undine might be among them in the 
agonies of death and alone. 

He had already grasped the strong branch of a pine, 
and was standing supported by it, in the whirling current, 
against which he could with difficulty maintain himself ; 
though with a courageous spirit he advanced deeper into 
it. Just then a gentle voice exclaimed near him: Ven- 
ture not, venture not, the old man, the stream, is full of 
tricks!’^ He knew the sweet tones; he stood as if entranced 
beneath the shadows that duskily shrouded the moon, and 
his head swam with the swelling of the waves, which he 
now saw rapidly rising to his waist. Still he., would not 
desist. 

‘‘If thou art not really there, if thou art only floating 
about me like a mist, then may I too cease to live and 
become a shadow like thee, dear, .dear Undine!’^ Thus 
exclaiming aloud, he again stepped deeper into the stream. 
“Look round thee, oh! look round thee, beautiful but in- 
fatuated youths cried a voice again close beside him, and 
looking aside, he saw by the momentarily unveiled moon, 
a little island formed by the flood, on which he perceived 
under the inter weaved branches of the overhanging trees. 
Undine smiling and happy, nestling in the flowery grass. 

Oh! how much more gladly than before did the young 
man now use the aid of his pine-branch! 

With a few steps he had crossed the flood which was 
rushing between him and the maiden, and he was standing 
beside her on a little spot of turf, safely guarded and 
screened by the good old trees. Undine had half- raised 
herself, and now under the green leafy tent she threw her 
arms round his neck, and drew him down beside her on 
her soft seat. 

“You shall tell me your story here, beautiful friend,” 
said she, in a low whisper; “the cross old people cannot 


UNDINE. 


15 


hear us here; and our roof of leaves is just as good a 
shelter as their poor cottage.” 

“It is heaven itself !” said Huldbrand, embracing the 
beautiful girl and kissing her fervently. 

The old fisherman meanwhile had come to the edge of 
the stream, and shouted across to the two young people: 
“ Why, sir knight, I have received you as one honest- 
hearted man is wont to receive another, and now here yvou 
are caressing my foster-child in secret, and letting me run 
hither and thither through the night in anxious search of 
her.” 

“ I have only just found her myself, old father,” returned 
the knight. 

“ So much the better,” said the fisherman; “ but now 
bring her across to me without delay upon firm ground.” 

Undine, however, would not hear of this; she declared 
she would rather go with the beautiful stranger, into the 
wild forest itself, than return to the cottage, where no 
one did as she wished, and from which the beautiful 
knight would himself depart sooner or later. Then, 
throwing her arms round Huldbrand, she sang with in- 
describable grace: 

“ A stream ran out of the misty vale 
Its fortunes to obtain, 

In the ocean’s depths it found a home 
And ne’er returned again.” 

The old fisherman wept bitterly at her song, but this 
did not seem to affect her particularly. She kissed and 
caressed her new friend, who at last said to her: “ Undine, 
if the old man^s distress does not touch your heart, it 
touches mine — let us go back to him.” 

She opened her large blue eyes in amazement at him, and 
spoke at last, slowly and hesitatingly: “ If you think so — 
well, whatever you think is right to me. But the old 


16 


UNDINE. 


man yonder must first promise me that he will let you, 
without objection, relate to me what you saw in the wood, 
and — well, other things will settle themselves/^ 

^^Corne, only come,^^ cried the fisherman to her, 
unable to utter another word; and at the same time he 
stretched out his arms far over the rushing stream 
toward her, and nodded his head as if to promise the 
fulfillment of her request, and as he did this, his 
white hair fell strangely over his face, and reminded 
Huldbrand of the nodding white man in the forest. With- 
out allowing himself, however, to grow confused by such 
an idea the young knight took the beautiful girl in his 
arms, and bore her over the narrow passage which the 
stream had forced between her little island and the shore. 

The old man fell upon Undine’s neck and could not 
satisfy the exuberance of his joy; his good wife also came 
up and caressed the newly-found in the heartiest manner. 
Not a wmrd of reproach passed their lips ; nor was it 
thought of, for Undine, forgetting all her waywardness, 
almost overwhelmed her foster-parents with affection and 
fond expressions. 

When at last they had recovered from the excess of their 
joy, day had already dawned, and had shed its purple hue 
over the lake; stillness had followed the storm, and the 
little birds were singing merrily on the wet branches. As 
Undine now insisted upon hearing the knight’s promised 
story, the aged couple smilingly and readily acceded to her 
desire. Breakfast was brought out under the trees which 
screened the cottage from the lake, and they sat down 
to it with contented hearts— Undine on the grass at the 
knight’s feet, the place chosen by herself. 

Huldbrand then proceeded with his story. 


UNDINE. 


17 


CHAPTER IV. 

OF THAT WHICH THE KNIGHT; ENCOUNTERED IN THE 
WOOD. 

It is now about eight da\s ago since I rode into the 
free imperial city, which lies on the other side of the forest. 
Soon after my arrival, there was a splendid tournament 
and running at the ring, and I spared neither my horse 
nor my lance. Once when I was pausing at the lists, to 
rest after my merry toil, and was handing back my helmet 
to one of my squires, my attention was attracted by a fe- 
male figure of great beauty, who was standing richly attired 
on one of the galleries allotted to spectators. 

I asked my neighbor, and learned from him, that the 
name of the fair lady was Bertalda, and that she was the 
foster-daughter of one of the powerful dukes living in the 
country. I remarked that she also was looking at me, 
and, as it is wont to be with us young knights, I had 
already ridden bravely, and now pursued my course with 
renovated confidence and courage. In the dance that 
evening I was Bertalda^s partner, and I remained so 
throughout the festival.'’^ 

A sharp pain in his left hand, which hung down by his 
side, here interrupted Huldbrand^s narrative, and drew his 
attention to the aching part. Undine had fastened her 
pearly teeth upon one of his fingers, appearing at the same 
time very gloomy and angry. Suddenly, however, she 
looked up in his eyes with an expression of tender melan- 
choly, and whispered in a soft voice: It is your own 
fault. Then she hid her face, and the knight, strangely 
confused and thoughtful, continued his narrative. 

This Bertalda was a haughty, wayward girl. Even on 
the second day she pleased me no longer as she had done 
on the first, and on the third day still less. Still I con- 


18 


UNDINE. 


tiiiued about her, because she was more pleasant to me 
than to any other knight, and thus it was that I begged 
her in jest to give me one of her gloves. ' I will give it 
you when you have quite alone explored the ill-famed 
forest," said she, "and can bring me tidings of its wonders." 
It was not that her glove was of such importance to me, 
but the word had been said, and an honorable knight 
would not allow himself to be urged a second time to such 
a proof of valor."" 

""I think she loved you,"" said Undine, interrupting 
him. 

""It seemed so,"" replied Huldbrand. 

"" Well,"" exclaimed the girl, laughing, "" she must be 
stupid indeed. To drive away any one dear to her. And 
moreover, into an ill-omened wood. The forest and its 
mysteries might have waited long enough for me!"" 

‘"Yesterday morning,"" continued the knight, smiling 
kindly at Undine, ""I set out on my enterprise. The 
stems of the trees caught the red tints of the morning light 
which lay brightly on the green turf, the leaves seemed 
whispering merrily with each other, and in my heart 
I could have laughed at the people who could have 
expected anything to terrify them in this pleasant spot. 

" I shall soon have trotted through the forest there 
and back again," I said to myself, with a feeling of easy 
gayety, and before I had even thought of it I was deep 
within the green shades, and could no longer perceive 

the plain which lay behind me. Then for the first 

time it struck me that I might easily lose my 

way in the mighty forest, and that this perhaps 

were the only danger which the wanderer had to fear. I 
therefore paused and looked round in the direction of the 
sun, which in the meanwhile had risen somewhat higher 
above the horizon. While I was thus looking up I saw 
something black in the brances of a lofty oak. I thought 


UNDINE, 


19 


it was a bear and I grasped my sword; but with a human 
vjice, that sounded harsh and ugly, it called to me from 
above: ‘ If I do not nibble away the branches up here, Sir 
Malapert, what shall we have to roast you with at mid- 
night?^ And so saying it grinned and made the branches 
rustle, so that my horse grew furious and rushed forward 
with me before I had time to see what sort of a devil it 
really was/^ 

“ You must not call it so,^’ said the old fisherman as he 
crossed himself; his wife did the same silently. Undine 
looked at the knight with sparkling eyes and said: ‘^The 
best of the story is that they certainly have not roasted 
him yet; go on now, you beautiful youth!" 

The knight continued his narration: ^^My horse was so 
' wild that he almost rushed with me against the stems and 
branches of trees; he was dripping with sweat, and yet 
would not suffer himself to be held in. At last he went 
straight in the direction of a rocky precipice; then it sud- 
denly seemed to me as if a tall white man threw himself 
across the path of my wild steed; the horse trembled with 
fear and stopped; I recovered my hold of him, and for the 
first time perceived that my deliverer was no white man, 
but a brook of silvery brightness, rushing down from a hill 
by my side and crossing and impeding my horse^s course. 

‘‘Thanks, dear Brook," exclaimed Undine, clapping her 
little hands. The old man, however, shook his head and 
looked down in deep thought. 

“1 had scarcely settled myself in the saddle," continued 
Iluldbrand, “ and seized the reins firmly, when a wonder- 
ful little man stood at my side, diminutive, and ugly beyond 
conception. His complexion was of a yellowish brown, 
and his nose not much smaller than the rest of his entire 
person. At the same time he kept grinning with stupid 
courtesy, exhibiting his huge mouth, and making a thou- 
sand scrapes and bows to me. As this farce was now be- 


20 


UNDINE. 


coming inconvenient to me, I thanked him brief!}' and 
turned about my still trembling steed, thinking either to 
seek another adventure, or in case I met with none, to find 
my way back, for during my wild chase the sun had 
already passed the meridian; but the little fellow sprang 
round with the speed of lightning and stood again before 
my horse. ^Room!’ I cried, angrily; ^the animal is wild 
and may easily run over you.^ Ay, ay!^ snarled the imp, 
with a grin still more horribly stupid. ^ Give me first some 
drink-money, for I have stopped your horse; without me 
you and your horse would be now both lying in the stony 
ravine; ugh!^ ^Don^t make any more faces,^ said I, ^ and 
take your money, even if you are telling lies; for see, it 
was the good brook there that saved me, and not you, you 
miserable wights And at the same time I dropped a piece 
of gold into his grotesque cap, which he had taken off in 
his begging. I then trotted on; but he screamed after me, 
and suddenly with inconceivable quickness was at my side. 
I urged my horse into a gallop; the imp ran too, making 
at the same time strange contortions with his body, half- 
ridiculous, half-horrible, and holding up the gold-piece, he 
cried, at every leap, ‘False money! false coin! false coin! 
false money!’ — and this he uttered with such a hollow 
sound that one would have supposed that after every scream 
he would have fallen dead to the ground. 

“ His horrid red tongue moreover hung far out of his 
mouth. I stopped, perplexed, and asked: ‘ What do you 
mean by this screaming? take another piece of gold, take 
two, but leave me.’ He then began again his hideous 
burlesque of politeness, and snarled out: ‘Not gold, not 
gold, my young gentleman. I have too much of that 
trash myself, as 1 will show you at once!’ 

“ Suddenly it seemed to me as if I could see through 
the solid soil as though it were green glass and the 
smooth earth were as round as a ball; and within, a multi- 


UNDINE. 


21 


tilde of goblins were making sport with silver and gold; 
head over heels they were rolling about, pelting each other 
in jest with the precious metals, and provokingly blowing 
the gold-dust in each other^s eyes. My hideous companion 
stood partly within and partly without; he ordered tlie 
others to reach him up heaps of gold, and showing it to 
me with a laugh, he then flung it back again with a ringing 
noise into the immeasurable abyss. 

He then showed the piece of gold I had given him to 
the goblins below, and they laughed themselves half-dead 
over it and hissed at me. At last they all pointed at me 
with their metal - stained fingers, and more and more 
wildly, and more and more densely, and more and more 
madly, the swarm of spirits came clambering up to me. I 
was seized with terror as my horse had been before; I put 
spurs to him, and I know not how far I galloped for the 
second time wildly into the forest. 

At length, when I again halted, the coolness of even- 
ing was around me. Through the branches of the trees I 
saw a white foot-path gleaming, which I fancied must lead 
from the forest toward the city. I was anxious to work 
my way in that direction; but a face perfectly white and 
indistinct, with features ever changing, kept peering at 
me between the leaves; I tried to avoid it, but wherever I 
went it appeared also. Enraged at this, I determined at 
last to ride at it, when it gushed forth volumes of foam 
upon me and my horse, obliging us half-blinded to make a 
rapid retreat. Thus it drove us step by step ever away 
from the foot-path, leaving the way open to us only in 
one direction. When we advanced in this direction, it 
kept indeed close behind us, but did not do us the slightest 
harm. 

Looking around at it occasionally, I perceived that 
the white face that had besprinkled us with foam belonged 
to a form equally white and of gigantic stature. Many a 


22 


UNDINE. 


time I thought that it was a moving stream, but I could 
never convince myself on the subject. Wearied out, the 
horse and his rider yielded to the impelling power of the 
wliite man, who kept nodding his head, as if he would say, 
‘ Quite right, quite rights And thus at last we came out 
here to the end of the forest, where I saw the turf, and 
the lake, and your little cottage, and where the tall white 
man disappeared.^^ 

‘'It’s well that he’s gone,” said the old fisherman; and 
now he began to talk of the best way by which his guest 
could return to his friends in the city. Upon this Undine 
began to laugh slyly to herself ; Huldbrand observed it, 
and said : “ I thought you were glad to see me here; 
why then do you now rejoice when my departure is talked 
of ?” 

“ Because you cannot go away,” replied Undine. “ Just 
try it once, to cross that overfiowed forest stream with a 
boat, with your horse, or alone, as you may fancy. Or 
rather don’t try it, for you would be dashed to pieces by 
the stones and trunks of trees which are carried down by 
it with the speed of lightning. And as to the lake, I 
know it well; father dare not venture out far enough with 
his boat.” 

Huldbrand rose, smiling, in order to see whether 
things were as Undine had said ; the old man accom- 
panied him, and the girl danced merrily along by their 
side. They found everything, indeed, as Undine had 
described, and the knight was obliged to submit to remain 
on the little tongue of land, that had become an 
island, till the fiood should subside. As tlie three were 
returning to the cottage after their ramble, the knight 
whispered in the ear of the little maiden : “ AVell, 
how is it my pretty Undine — are you angry at my 
remaining?” 

“Ah!” she replied, peevishly, “ let me alone. If I had 


UNDINE. 23 

not bitten you, who knows how much of Bertalda would 
have appeared in your story?” 


CHAPTER V. 

HOW THE KKIGHT LIVED 01^ THE LITTLE PROMONTORY. 

After having been much driven to and fro in the 
world, you have perhaps, my dear reader, reached at length 
some spot where all was well with thee; where the love for 
home and its calm peace, innate to all, has again sprung 
up within thee; where thou hast thought that this home 
was rich with all the flowers of childhood and of the 
piTl’est, deepest love that rests upon the graves of those 
that are gone, and thou hast felt it must be good to dwell 
here and to build habitations. Even if thou hast erred in 
this, and hast had afterward bitterly to atone for the error, 
that is nothing to the purpose now, and thou wouldst not, 
indeed, voluntarily sadden thyself with the unpleasant 
recollection. But recall that inexpressibly sweet forebod- 
ing, that angelic sense of peace, and thou wilt know some- 
what of the knight Huldbrand’s feelings during his 
abode on the little promontory. 

He often perceived with hearty satisfaction that the 
forest stream rolled along every day more wildly, making 
its bed ever broader and broader, and prolonging his 
sojourn on the island to an indeflnite period. Part of the 
(lay he rambled about with an old cross-bow, which he had 
found in a corner of the cottage and had repaired ; and, 
watching for the water-fowl, he killed all that he could for 
the cottage kitchen. When he brought his booty home. 
Undine rarely neglected to upbraid him with having so 
cruelly deprived the happy birds of life; indeed she often 
wept bitterly at the sight he placed before her. But if he 
came home another time without having shot anything 


24 


UNDINE. 


she scolded him no less seriously, since now, from his 
carelessness and want of skill, they had to be satisfied with 
living on fish. He always delighted heartily in her 
graceful little scoldings, all the more as she generally 
strove to compensate for her ill humor by the sweetest 
caresses. 

The old people took pleasure in the intimacy of the 
young pair; they regarded them as betrothed, or even as 
already united in marriage, and living on this isolated 
spot, as a succor and support to them in their old age. It 
was this same sense of seclusion that suggested the idea 
also to Huldbrand's mind that he was already Undine’s 
aiccepted one. He felt as if there were no world beyond 
these surrounding waters, or as if he could never recross 
them to mingle with other men; and when at times his 
grazing horse would neigh as if inquiringly to remind him 
of knightly deeds, or when the coat of arms on his em- 
broidered saddle and horse-gear shone sternly upon him, 
or wlien his beautiful sword would suddenly fall from the 
nail on which it was hanging in the cottage, gliding from 
the scabbard as it fell, he would quiet the doubts of his 
mind by saying: ‘^Undine is no fisherman’s daughter; she 
belongs in all probability to some illustrious family 
abroad.” There was only one thing to which he had a 
strong aversion, and this was, when the old dame reproved 
Undine in his presence. The wayward girl, it is true, 
laughed at it for the most part, without attempting to con- 
ceal her mirth; but it seemed to him as if his honor were 
concerned, and yet he could not blame the old fisherman's 
wife, for Undine always deserved at least ten times as 
many reproofs as she received; so, in his heart he felt the 
balance in favor of the old woman, and his whole life 
flowed onward in calm enjoyment. 

There came, however, an interruption at last. The 
fisherman and the knight had been accustomed at their 


UNDINE. 


25 


midday meal, and also in the evening when the wind 
roared without, as it was always wont to do toward night, 
to enjoy together a flask of wine. But now the store 
which the flsherman had from time to time brought with 
him from the town, was exhausted, and the two men were 
quite out of humor in consequence. 

Undine laughed at them excessively all day, but they 
were neither of them merry enough to join in her jests as 
usual. Toward evening she went out of the cottage to 
avoid, as she said, two such long and tiresome faces. As 
twilight advanced, there were again tokens of a storm, and 
the water rushed and roared. Full of alarm, the knight 
and the flsherman sprang to the door, to bring home the 
girl, remembering the anxiety of that night when Iluld- 
brand had flrst come to the cottage. Undine, however, 
met them, clapping her little hands with delight. What 
will you give me,^^ she said, to provide you with wine?’^ 
or rather, you need not give me anything,^^ she con- 
continued, for I am satisfied if you will look merrier and 
be in better spirits than you have been throughout this 
whole wearisome day. Only come with me; the forest 
stream has driven ashore a cask, and I will be condemned 
to sleep through a whole week if it is not a wine-cask.^’ 
The men followed her, and in a sheltered creek on the 
shore, they actually found a cask, which inspired them 
with the hope that it contained the generous drink for 
which they were thirsting. 

They at once rolled it as quickly as possible toward the 
cottage, for the western sky was overcast with heavy storm- 
clouds, and they could observe in the twilight the waves 
of the lake raising their white, foaming heads, as if look- 
ing out for the rain which was presently to pour down 
upon them. Undine hel^^ed the men as much as she was 
able, and when the storm of rain suddenly burst over them, 
she said, with a merry threat to the heavy clouds: ‘‘ Come, 


26 


UNDINE. 


come, take care Ihali you don’t wet ns; we are still some 
way from shelter.” The old man reproved her for this, 
as simple presumption, but she laughed softly to herself, 
and no mischief befell any one in consequence of her 
levity. Nay, more ; contrary to all expectation, they 
reached the comfortable hearth with their booty perfectly 
dry, and it was not till they had opened the cask, and had 
proved that it contained some wonderfully excellent wine, 
that the rain burst forth from the dark cloud, and the 
storm raged among the tops of the trees, and over the 
agitated billows of the lake. 

Several bottles were soon filled from the great cask, 
which promised a supply for many days, and they were 
sitting drinking and jesting round the glowing fire, feel- 
ing comfortably secured from the raging storm without. 
Suddenly the old fisherman became very grave and said: 
“ Ah, great God ! here we are rejoicing over this rich 
treasure, and he to whom it once belonged, and of whom 
the floods have robbed it, has probably lost his precious 
life in their waters.” 

^‘That he has not,” declared Undine, as she smilingly 
filled the knight’s cup to the brim. 

But Huldbrand replied: By my honor, old father, if 
I knew where to find and to rescue him, no knightly errand 
and no danger would I shirk. So much, however, I can 
promise you, that if ever again I reach more inhabited 
lands, I will find out the owner of this wine or his heirs, 
and requite it twofold, nay, threefold.” 

This delighted the old man; he nodded approvingly to 
the knight, and drained his cup with a better conscience 
and greater pleasure. 

Undine, however, said to Huldbrand: ‘‘Do as you will 
with your gold and your reimbursement; but you spoke 
foolishly about the venturing out in search; 1 should cry 
my eyes out, if you were lost in the attempt, and isn’t it 


UNDINE. 27 

true, that you would yourself rather stay with me and the 
good wine?” 

Yes, indeed,” answered Huldbrand, smiling. 

‘‘Then,” said Undine, “you spoke unwisely. For 
charity begins at home, and what do other people concern 
us?” 

The old woman turned away sighing and shaking her 
head; the fisherman forgot his wonted alfection for the 
pretty girl and scolded her. 

“ It sounds exactly,” said he, as he finished his reproof, 
“as if Turks and heathens had brought you up; may God 
forgive both me and you, you spoiled child.” 

“ Well,” replied Undine, “ for all that, it is what I feel, 
let who will have brought me up, and all your words canT 
help that.” 

“ Silence!” exclaimed the fisherman, and Undine, who, 
in spite of her pertness, was exceedingly fearful, shrank 
from him, and moving tremblingly toward Huldbrand, 
asked him in a soft tone : “ Are you also angry, dear 
friend?” 

The knight pressed her tender hand and stroked her 
hair. He could say nothing, for vexation at the old many’s 
severity toward Undine closed his lips; and thus the two 
couples sat opposite to each other, with angry feelings and 
embarrassed silence. 


CHAPTER VI. 

OF A NUPTIAL CEKEMONY. 

A LOW knocking at the door was heard in the midst of 
this stillness, startling all the inmates of the cottage; for 
there are times when a little circumstance, happening 
quite unexpectedly, can unduly alarm us. But there was 
here the additional cause of alarm that the enchanted 


28 


UNDINE. 


forest lay so near, and that the little promontory seemed 
just now inaccessible to human beings. They looked at 
each other doubtingly, as the knocking was repeated ac- 
companied by a deep groan, and the knight sprang to 
reach his sword. But the old man whispered softly: ^‘If 
it be what I fear, no weapon will help us.” 

Undine meanwhile approached the door and called out 
angrily and boldly: Spirits of the earth, if you wish to 
carry on your mischief, Kxihleborn shall teach you some- 
thing better.” 

The terror of the rest was increased by these mysterious 
words; they looked fearfully at the girl, and Hnldbrand 
was just regaining courage enough to ask what she meant, 
when a voice said without: ‘‘I am no spirit of the earth, 
but a spirit indeed still within its earthly body. You 
within the cottage, if you fear God and will help me, open 
to me.” At these words. Undine had already opened the 
door, and had held a lamp out in the stormy night, by 
which they perceived an aged priest standing there, who 
stepped back in terror at the unexpected sight of the 
beautiful maiden. He might well think that witchcraft 
and magic were at work when such a lovely form appeared 
at such an humble cottage door: he therefore began to 
pray: ^^All good spirits praise the Lord!” 

‘‘lam no specter,” said Undine, smiling; “do I then 
look so ugly? Besides you may see the holy words do not 
frighten me. I too know of God, and understand how to 
praise Him; every one to be sure in his own way, for so 
He has created us. Come in, venerable father; you come 
among good geople.” 

The holy man entered, bowing and looking round him, 
with a profound, yet tender demeanor. But the water 
was dropping from every fold of his dark garment, and 
from his white long white beard and from his gray locks. 
The fisherman and the knight took him to another apart- 


UNDINE. 


29 


ment and furnished him with other clothes, while they 
gave the women his own wet attire to dry. The aged 
stranger thanked them humbly and courteously, but he 
would on no account accept the knight’s splendid mantle, 
which was otfered to him; but he chose instead an old 
gray overcoat belonging to the fisherman. They then re- 
turned to the apartment, and the good old dame immedi- 
ately vacated her easy-chair for the reverend father, and 
would not rest till he had taken possession of it. “ For,” 
said she, ^^you are old and exhausted, and you are more- 
over a man of God.” Undine pushed under the stranger’s 
feet her little stool, on which she had been wont to sit by 
the side of Huldbrand, and she showed herself in every way 
most'gentle and kind in her care of the good old man. 
Huldbrand whispered some raillery at it in her ear, but 
she replied very seriously: ^‘He is a servant of him who 
created us all; holy things are not to be jested with.” 
The knight and the fisherman then refreshed their rever- 
end guest with food and wine, and when he had some- 
what recovered himself, he began to relate how he had the 
day before set out from his cloister, which lay far beyond the 
great lake, intending to travel to the bishop, in order to 
acquaint him with the distress into which the monastery 
and its tributary villages had fallen on account of the ex- 
traordinary fioods. 

After a long, circuitous route, which these very floods 
had obliged him to take, he had been this day compelled, 
toward evening, to procure the aid of a couple of good 
boatmen to cross an arm of the lake, which had overflowed 
its banks. 

‘^Scarcely however,” continued he, ^^had our small 
craft touched the waves, than that furious tempest burst 
forth which is now raging over our heads. It seemed as 
if the waters had only waited for us, to commence their 
wildest whirling dance with our little boat. The oars 


30 


UNDINE, 


were soon torn out of the hands of my men, and were 
dashed by the force of the waves further and further be- 
yond our reach. We ourselves, yielding to the resistless 
powers of nature, helplessly drifted over the surging bil- 
lows of the lake toward your distant shore, which we al- 
ready saw looming through the mist and foam. Presently 
our boat turned round and round as in a giddy whirlpool; 
I know not whether it was upset, or whether I fell overboard. 
In a vague terror of inevitable death I drifted on, till a wave 
cast me here, under the trees on your island.'’^ 

“ Yes, island!’^ cried the fisherman; “ a short time ago 
it was only a point of land; but now, since the forest- 
stream and the lake have become well - nigh bewitched, 
things are quite dilferent with us.^' 

I remarked something of the sort,” said the priest, 
as I crept along the shore in the dark, and hearing 
nothing but the uproar around me, I at last perceived that 
a beaten foot-path disappeared just in the direction from 
which the sound proceeded. I now saw the light in your 
cottage, and ventured hither, and I cannot sufficiently 
thank my heavenly Father that after preserving me from 
the waters, He has led me to such good and pious people 
as you are; and I feel this all the more, as I do not know 
whether I shall ever behold any other beings in this world, 
except those I now address.” 

What do you mean?” asked the fisherman. 

Do you know then how long this commotion of the 
elements is to last?” replied the holy man. And I am 
old in years. Easily enough may the stream of my life 
run itself out before the overflowing of the forest-stream 
may subside. And indeed it were not impossible that 
more and more of the foaming waters may force their way 
between you and yonder forest, until you are so far sun- 
dered from the rest of the world that your little fishing- 
boat will no longer be sufficient to carry you across, and 


UNDINE. 


31 


the inhabitants of the continent in the midst of their 
diversions will have entirely forgotten yon in your old age/’ 

The fisherman’s wife started at this, crossed herself and 
exclaimed, God forbid!” But her husband looked at her 
with a smile, and said: ''What creatures we are after all! 
even were it so, things would not be very different — at 
least not for you, dear wife — than they now are. For 
have you for many years been further than the edge of the 
forest? and have you seen any other human beings than 
Undine and myself ? The knight and this holy man have 
only come to us lately. They will remain with us if we 
do become a forgotten island; so you would even be a 
gainer by it after all.” 

" I don’t know,” said the old woman; "it is somehow a 
gloomy thought, when one imagines that one is irrecover- 
ably separated from other people, although, were it other- 
wise, one might neither know nor see them.” 

"Then you will remain with us! then you will remain 
with us!” whispered Undine, in a low, half-singing tone, as 
she nestled closer to Huldbrand’s side. But he was ab- 
sorbed in the deep and strange visions of his own mind. 

The region on the other side of the forest-river seemed 
to dissolve into distance during the priest’s last words; and 
the blooming island upon which he lived grew more green, 
and smiled more freshly in his mind’s vision. His beloved 
one glowed as the fairest rose of this little spot of earth, 
and even of the whole world, and the priest was actually 
there. Added to this, at that moment an angry glance 
from the old dame was directed at the beautiful girl, 
because even in the presence of the reverend father she 
leaned so closely on the knight, and it seemed as if a tor- 
rent of reproving words were on the point of following. 
Presently, turning to the priest, Huldbrand broke forth. 
" Venerable father, you see before you here a pair pledged 
to each other; and if this maiden and these good old people 


32 


UNDINE. 


have no objection, you shall unite us this very evening.” 
The aged couple were extremely surprised. They had, it 
is true, hitherto often thought of something of the sort, but 
they had never yet expressed it, and when the knight now 
spoke thus, it came upon them as something wholly new 
and unprecedented. 

Undine had become suddenly grave, and looked down 
thoughtfully while the priest inquired respecting the cir- 
cumstances of the case, and asked if the old people gave 
their consent. After much discussion together, the matter 
was settled; the old dame went to arrange the bridal 
chamber for the young people, and to look out two conse- 
crated tapers which she had had in her possession for some 
time, and which she thought essential to the nuptial cere- 
mony. The knight in the meanwhile examined his gold 
chain, from which he wished to disengage two rings, that 
he might make an exchange of them with his bride. 

She, however, observing what he was doing, started up 
from her reverie, and exclaimed : Not so! my parents 
have not sent me into the world quite destitute; on the 
contrary, they must have anticipated with certainty that 
such an evening as this would come.” Thus saying, she 
quickly left the room and reappeared in a moment with 
two costly rings, one of which she gave to her bridegroom, 
and kept the other for herself. The old fisherman was 
extremely astonished at this, and still more so his wife, 
who just then entered, for neither had ever seen these jewels 
in the child^s possession. 

“My parents,” said Undine, “sewed these little things 
into the beautiful frock which I had on, when I came to 
you. They forbid me, moreover, to mention them to any 
one before my wedding evening, so I secretly took them, 
and kept them concealed until now.” 

The priest interrupted all further questionings by lighting 
the consecrated tapers, which he placed upon m tp-ble, and 


UNDINE, 


33 


summoned the bridal pair to stand opposite to him. He then 
gave them to each other with a few short solemn words; the 
elder couple gave their blessing to the younger, and the 
bride, trembling and thoughtful, leaned upon the knight. 
Then the priest suddenly said: “You are strange people 
after all. Why did you tell me you were the only people 
here on the island? and dpring the whole ceremony, a tall 
stately man, in a white mantle, has been looking at me 
through the window opposite. He must still be standing 
before the door, to see if you will invite him to come into 
the house. 

“ God forbid,^’ said the old dame with a start; the fisher- 
man shook his head in silence, and Huldbrand sprang to 
the window. It seemed even to him as if he could still 
see a white streak, but it soon completely disappeared in 
the darkness. He convinced the priest that he must have 
been absolutely mistaken, and they all sat down together 
round the hearth. 


CHAPTER VII. 

WHAT FUKTHEK HAPPENED OH THE EVEHIHO OF THE 
WEDDIHO. 

Both before and during the ceremony. Undine had 
shown herself gentle and quiet; but it now seemed as if 
all the way ward humors which rioted within her, burst 
forth all the more boldly and unrestrainedly. She teased her 
bridegroom and her foster-parents, and even the holy man 
whom she had so lately reverenced, with all sorts of childish 
tricks; and when the old woman was about to reprove her, 
she was quickly silenced by a few grave words from the 
knight, speaking of Undine now as his wife. Nevertheless 
the knight himself was equally little pleased with Undine's 
childish behavior; but no signs, and no reproachful words 


34 


UNDINE. 


were of any avail. It is true, whenever the bride noticed 
her husband’s dissatisfaction — and this occurred occasion- 
ally — she became more quiet, sat down by his side, caressed 
him, whispered something smilingly into his ear, and 
smoothed the wrinkles that were gathering on his brow. 
But immediately afterward, some wild freak would again 
lead her to return to her ridiculous proceedings, and matters 
would be worse than before. At length the priest said in 
a serious and kind tone: ^^My fair young maiden, no one 
indeed can look at you without delight; but remember so 
to attune your soul betimes, that it may ever harmonize 
with that of your wedded husband.” 

‘‘Soul!” said Undine, laughing; “that sounds pretty 
enough, and may be a very edifying and useful caution 
for most people. But when one hasn’t a soul at all, I beg 
you, what is there to attune then? and that is my case.” 
The priest was silent, and deeply wounded and with 
holy displeasure he turned his face from the girl. She 
however went up to him caressingly, and said: “No! 
listen to me first, before you look angry, for your look 
of anger gives me pain, and you must not give pain to 
any creature who has done you no wrong — only have 
patience with me, and 1 will tell you properly what I 
mean?” 

It was evident that she was preparing herself to explain 
something in detail, but suddenly she hesitated, as if 
seized with an inward shuddering, and burst out into 
a flood of tears. They none of them knew what to make 
of this ebullition, and filled with various apprehensions 
they gazed at her in silence. At length, wiping away 
her tears, and looking earnestly at the reverend man, 
she said : “ There must be something beautiful, but 

at the same time extremely awful about a soul. Tell 
me, holy sir, were it not better that we never shared such 
a gift?” She was silent again as if waiting for an answer, 


UNDINE. 


35 


and her tears had ceased to flow. All in the cottage had 
risen from their seats and had stepped back from her with 
horror. She, however, seemed to have eyes for no one but 
the holy man; her features wore an expression of fearful 
curiosity, which appeared terrible to those who saw her. 
“ The soul must be a heavy burden, she continued, as no 
one answered her, ^‘very heavy! for even its approaching 
image overshadows me with anxiety and sadness. And, 
ah! I was so light-hearted and so merry till nowT^ And 
she burst into a fresh flood of tears, and covered her face 
with the drapery she wore. Then the priest went up to 
her with a solemn air, and spoke to her, and conjured her 
by the name of the Most Holy to cast aside the veil that 
enveloped her, if any spirit of evil possessed her. But she 
sank on her knees before him, repeating all the sacred 
words he uttered, praising God, and protesting that she 
wished well with the whole world. 

Then at last the priest said to the knight: ^‘Sir bride- 
groom, I will leave you alone with her whom I have united 
to you in marriage. So far as I can discover there is 
nothing of evil in her, but much indeed that is mysterious. 
I commend to you — prudence, love, and fidelity/^ So 
saying, he went out, and the fisherman and his wife fol- 
lowed him crossing themselves. 

Undine had sunk on her knees; she unveiled her face 
and said, looking timidly round on Huldbrand: ‘^Alas! 
you will surely now not keep me as your own; and yet I 
have done no evil, poor child that I amU As she said 
this, she looked so exquisitely graceful and touching, that 
her bridegroom forgot all the horror he had felt, and all 
the mystery that clung to her, and hastening to her he 
raised her in his arms. She smiled through her tears; it 
was a smile like the morning-light playing on a little 
stream. You cannot leave me,"^ she whispered, with 
confident security, stroking the knight's cheek with her 


36 


UNDINE. 


tender hand. Huldbrand tried to dismiss the fearful 
thoughts that still lurked in the background of his mind, 
persuading him that he was married to a fairy or to some 
malicious and mischievous being of the spirit world, only 
the single question half unawares escaped his lips: ^^My 
little Undine, tell me this one thing, what was it you said 
of spirits of the earth and of Kiihleborn, when the priest 
knocked at the door?^^ 

^‘It was nothing but fairy tales! — children's fairytales!’^ 
said Undine, with all her wonted gayety; I frightened 
you at first with them, and then you frightened me, that’s 
the end of our story and of our nuptial evening.” 

^^Nay! that it isn’t,” said the knight, intoxicated with 
love, and extinguishing the tapers, he bore his beautiful 
beloved to the bridal chamber by the light of the moon 
which shone brightly through the windows. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DAY AFTER THE VTEDDIKG. 

The fresh light of the morning awoke the young mar- 
ried pair. Wonderful and horrible dreams had disturbed 
Huldbrand’s rest; he had been haunted by specters, who, 
grinning at him by stealth, had tried to disguise them- 
selves as beautiful women, and from beautiful women they 
all at once assumed the faces of dragons, and when he 
started up from these hideous visions, the moonlight 
shone pale and cold into the room; terrified he looked at 
Undine, who still lay in unaltered beauty and grace. 
Then he would press a light kiss upon her rosy lips, and 
would fall asleep again only to be awakened by new terrors. 
After he had reflected on all this, now that he was fully 
awake, he reproached himself for any doubt that could 
have led him into error with regard to his beautiful wife. 


UNDINE. 


37 


He begged her to forgive him for the injustice he had done 
her, but she only held out to him her fair hand, sighed 
deeply and remained silent. But a glance of exquisite 
fervor beamed from her eyes such as he had never seen be- 
fore, carrying with it the full assurance that Undine bore 
him no ill-will. He then rose cheerfully and left her, to 
join his friends in the common apartment. 

He found the three sitting round the hearth, with an air 
of anxiety about them, as if they dared not venture 
to speak aloud. The priest seemed to be praying in his 
inmost spirit that all evil might be averted. When, how- 
ever, they saw the young husband come forth so cheerfully 
the careworn expression of their faces vanished. 

The old fisherman even began to jest with the knight, so 
pleasantly that the aged wife smiled good-humoredly as 
she listened to them. Undine at length made her appear- 
ance. All rose to meet her, and all stood still with sur- 
prise, for the young wife seemed so strange to them and 
yet the same. The priest was the first to advance toward 
her, with paternal affection beaming in his face, and, as he 
raised his hand to bless her, the beautiful woman sank 
reverently on her knees before him. With a few humble 
and gracious words she begged him to forgive her for any 
foolish things she might have said the evening before, and 
entreated him in an agitated tone to pray for the welfare of 
her soul. She then rose, kissed her foster-parents, and 
thanking them for all the goodness they had shown her, 
she exclaimed: ‘^Oh! I now feel in ray innermost' heart, 
how much, how infinitely much, you have done for me, 
dear, kind people She could not at first desist from her 
caresses, but scarcely had she perceived that the old 
woman was busy in preparing breakfast, than she went to 
the hearth, cooked and arranged the meal, and would not 
suffer the good old mother to take the least trouble. 

She continued thus throughout the whole day, quiet. 


38 


UNDINE, 


kind, and attentive — at once a little matron and a tender, 
bashful girl. The three who had known her longest, ex- 
pected every moment to see some whimsical vagary of her 
capricious spirit burst forth. But they waited in vain for 
it. Undine remained as mild and gentle as ^an angel. 
The holy father could not take his eyes from 
her, and he said repeatedly to the bridegrooom : 
‘‘ The goodness of heaven, sir, has intrusted a treasure to 
you yesterday through me, unworthy as lam; cherish it 
as you ought, and it will promote your temporal and 
eternal welfare.'’^ 

Toward evening Undine was hanging on the knight^s 
arm with humble tenderness, and drew him gently out of 
the door, where the declining sun was shining pleasantly 
on the fresh grass, and upon the tall, slender stems of the 
trees. The eyes of the young wife were moist, as with the 
dew of sadness and love, and a tender and fearful secret 
seemed hovering on her lips, which, however, was only 
disclosed by scarcely audible sighs. She led her husband 
onward and onward in silence; when he spoke, she only 
answered him with looks, in which, it is true, there lay no 
direct reply to his inquiries, but a whole heaven of love 
and timid devotion. Thus they reached the edge of the 
swollen forest stream, and the knight was astonished to 
see it rippling along in gentle waves, without a trace of its 
former wildness and swell. By the morning it will be 
quite dry,^^ said the beautiful wife, in a regretful tone, 

and you can then travel away wherever you will, without 
anything to hinder you.” 

^‘Not without you, my little Undine,” replied the 
knight, laughing; remember, even if I wished to desert 
you, the church, and the spiritual powers, and the em- 
peror, and the empire would interpose and bring the 
fugitive back again.” 

All depends upon you, all depends upon you,” whis- 


UNDINE. 


39 


pered his wife, half-weeping and half-smiling. ‘‘ I think, 
however, nevertheless, that you will keep me with you; I 
love you so heartily. Now carry me across to that little 
island that lies before us. The matter shall be decided 
there. I could easily indeed glide through the rippling 
waves, but it is so restful in your arms, and if you were to 
cast me off, I shall have sweetly rested in them once more 
for the last time.'’^ Huldbrand, full as he was of strange 
fear and emotion, knew not what to reply. He took her 
ill his arms and carried her across, remembering now for 
the first time that this was the same little island from 
which he had borne her back to the old fisherman on that 
first night. On the further side he put her down on the 
soft grass, and was on the point of placing himself lovingly 
near his beautiful burden, when she said: ‘^No, there 
opposite to me! I will read my sentence in your eyes, 
before your lips speak; now, listen attentively to what I 
will relate to you.^^ And she began: 

You must know, my loved one, that there are beings 
in the elements which almost appear like mortals, and 
which rarely allow themselves to become visible to your 
race. Wonderful salamanders glitter and sport in the 
fiames; lean and malicious gnomes dwell deep within the 
earth; spirits, belonging to the air, wander through the 
forests, and a vast family of water- spirits live in the lakes, 
and streams, and brooks. In resounding domes of crystal, 
through which the sky looks in with its sun and stars, 
these latter spirits find their beautiful abode; lofty trees 
of coral with blue and crimson fruits gleam in their gar- 
dens; they wander over the pure sand of the sea, and 
among lovely variegated shells, and amid all exquisite 
treasures of the old world, which the present is no longer 
worthy to enjoy; all these the floods have covered with 
their secret veils of silver, and the noble monuments 
sparkle below, stately and solemn, and bedewed by the 


40 


UNDINE. 


loving waters which allure from them many a beautiful 
moss-flower and entwining cluster of sea-grass. Those, 
however, who dwell there are very fair and lovely to be- 
hold, and for the most part are more beautiful than 
human beings. Many a fisherman has been so fortunate 
as to surprise some tender mermaid as she rose above the 
waters and sang. He would tell afar of her beauty, and 
such wonderful beings have been given the name of Un- 
dines. You, however, are now actually beholding an 
Undine.” 

The knight tried to persuade himself that his beautiful 
wife was under the spell of one of her strange humors, and 
that she was taking pleasure in teasing him with one of 
her extravagant inventions. But repeatedly as he said 
this to himself, he could not believe it for a moment; a 
strange shudder passed through him; unable to utter a 
word, he stared at the beautiful narrator with an immov- 
able gaze. Undine shook her head sorrowfully, drew a 
deep sigh, and then proceeded as follows: 

Our condition would be far superior to that of other 
human beings — for human beings we call ourselves, being 
similar to them in form and culture — but there is one 
evil peculiar to us. We and our like in the other elements, 
vanish into dust and pass away, body and spirit, so that not 
a vestige of us remains behind ; and when you mortals 
hereafter awake to a purer life, we remain with the sand 
and the sparks and the wind and the waves. Hence we 
have also no souls; the element moves us, and is often 
obedient to us while we live, though it scatters us to dust 
when we die; and we are merry, without having aught to 
grieve us — merry as the nightingales and the little gold- 
fishes and other pretty children of nature. But all things 
aspire to be higher than they are. Thus, my father, who 
is a powerful water-prince in the Mediterranean Sea, de- 
sired that his only daughter should become possessed of a 


UNBINE. 


41 


sonl, even though she must then endure many of the suf- 
ferings of those thus endowed. Such as we are, however, 
can only obtain a soul by the closest union of affection 
with one of your human race. I am now possessed of a 
soul, and my soul thanks you, my inexpressibly beloved 
one, and it will ever thank you, if you do not make my 
whole life miserable. For what is to become of me, if you 
avoid and reject me? Still, I would not retain you by 
deceit. And if you mean to reject me, do so now, and 
return alone to the shore. I will dive into this brook, 
which is my uncle; and here in the forest, far removed 
from other friends, he passes his strange and solitary life. 
He is, however, powerful, and is esteemed and beloved by 
many great streams; and as he brought me hither to the 
fisherman, a light-hearted, laughing child, he will take 
me back again to my parents, a loving, suffering and soul- 
endowed woman.” 

She was about to say still more, but Huldbrand em- 
braced her with the most heartfelt emotion and love, and 
bore her back again to the shore. It was not till he 
reached it, that he swore amid tears and kisses, never to 
foresake his sweet wife, calling himself more happy than 
the Greek Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue received life 
from Venus and became his loved one. In endearing con- 
fidence, Undine walked back to the cottage, leaning on 
his arm; feeling now for the first time, with all her heart, 
how little she ought to regret the forsaken crystal palaces 
of her mysterious father. 


42 


UNDINE, 


CHAPTER IX. 

HOW THE KmOHT TOOK HIS YOUNG WIFE WITH HIM. 

When Huldbrand awoke from his sleep on the follow- 
ing morning, and missed his beautiful wife from his side, 
he began to indulge again in the strange thoughts, that 
his marriage and the charming Undine herself were but 
fleeting and deceptive illusions. But at the same moment 
she entered the room, sat down beside him, and said : ‘‘I 
have been out rather early to see if my uncle keeps his 
word. He has already led all the waters back again into 
his own calm channel, and he now flows through the forest, 
solitarily and dreamily as before. His friends in the water 
and the air have also returned to repose; all will again go 
on quietly and regularly, and you can travel homeward 
when you will, dry-shod.” It seemed to Huldbrand as 
though he were in a waking dream, so little could he 
reconcile himself to the strange relationship of his wife. 
Nevertheless he made no remark on the matter, and the 
exquisite grace of his bride soon lulled to rest every uneasy 
misgiving. When he was afterward standing before the 
door with her, and looking over the green peninsula with 
its boundary of clear waters, he felt so happy in this 
cradle of his love, that he exclaimed: ^^Why shall we 
travel so soon as to-day? We shall scarcely find more 
pleasant days in the world yonder than those we have spent 
in this quiet little shelter. Let us yet see the sun go down 
here twice or thrice more.” 

^^As my lord wills,” replied Undine, humbly. ‘‘It is 
only that the old people will, at all events, part from me 
with pain, and when they now for the first time perceive 
the true soul within me, and how I can now heartily love 
and honor, their feeble eyes will be dimmed with plentiful 
tears. At present they consider my quietness and gentle- 


UNDINE. 


43 


ness of no better promise than before, like the calmness of 
the lake when the air is still; and, as matters now are, they 
will soon learn to cherish a flower or a tree as they have 
cherished me. Do not, therefore, let me reveal to them 
this newly-bestowed and loving heart, just at the moment 
when they must lose it for this world; and how could I 
conceal it, if we remain longer together?^’ 

Huldbrand conceded the point ; he went to the aged 
people and talked with them over the journey, which he 
proposed to undertake immediately. The holy father 
offered to accompany the young married pair, and, after a 
hasty farewell, he and the knight assisted the beautiful 
bride to mount her horse, and walked with rapid step by 
her side over the dry channel of the forest-stream into the 
wood beyond. Undine wept silently but bitterly, and the 
old people gave loud expression to their grief. It seemed 
as if they had a presentiment of all they were now losing 
in their foster-child. 

The three travelers had reached in silence the densest 
shades of the forest. It must have been a fair sight, under 
that green canopy of leaves, to see Undine^’s lovely form, 
as she sat on her noble and richly ornamented steed, with 
the venerable priest in the white garb of his- order on one 
side of her, and on the other the blooming young knight 
in his gay and splendid attire, with his sword at his girdle. 
Huldbrand had no eyes but for his beautiful wife; Undine, 
who had dried her tears, had no eyes but for him, and 
they soon fell into a mute, voiceless converse of glance and 
gesture, from which they were only roused at length by 
the low talking of the reverend father with a fourth 
traveler, who in the meanwhile had joined them unob- 
served. 

He wore a white garment almost resembling the dress of 
the priest’s order, except that his hood hung low over his 
face, and his whole attire floated round him in such vast 


44 


UNDINE. 


folds that he was obliged every moment to gather it up, 
and throw it over his arm, or dispose of it in some way, 
and yet it did not in the least seem to impede his move- 
ments. When the young couple first perceived him, he 
was just saying: And so, venerable sir, I have now dwelt 
for many years here in the forest, and yet no one could 
call me a hermit, in your sense of the word. For, as I said, 
1 know nothing of penance, and I do not think I have 
any especial need of it. I love the forest only for this 
reason, that its beauty is quite peculiar to itself, and it 
amuses me to pass along in my flowing white garments 
among the leaves and dusky shadows, while now and then 
a sweet sunbeam shines down unexpectedly upon me.” 

You are a very strange man,” replied the priest, ‘^and 
I should like to be more closely acquainted with you.” 

And to pass from one thing to another, who may you 
be yourself ?” asked the stranger. 

I am called Father Heilmann,” said the holy man; 

and I come from the monastery of ‘ our Lady ^ which lies 
on the other side of the lake.” 

‘‘ Indeed,” replied the stranger; my name is Kiihle- 
born, and so far as courtesy is concerned, I might claim 
the title of Lord of Kuhleborn, or free Lord of Kuhleborn; 
for I am as free as the birds in the forest and perhaps a 
little more so. For example, I have now something to 
say to the young lady there.” And before they were 
aware of his intention, he was at the other side of the 
priest, close beside Undine, stretching himself up to whisper 
something in her ear. 

But she turned from him with alarm, and exclaimed: 

I have nothing more to do with you.” 

‘^Ho, ho,” laughed the stranger, "^what is this im- 
mensely grand marriage you have made, that you doiFt 
know your own relations any longer? Have you forgotten 
your uncle Kuhleborn, who so faithfully bore you on his 
back through this region?” 


UNDINE. 


45 


^‘Ibeg yon, nevertheless,’’ replied Undine, ^^not to 
appear in my presence again. I am now afraid of you: 
and suppose my husband should learn to avoid me when he 
sees me in such strange company and with such relations!” 

“My little niece,” said Kiihleborn, “you must not 
forget that I am with you here as a guide; the spirits of 
earth that haunt this place might otherwise play some of 
their stupid pranks with you. Let me therefore go quietly 
on with you; the old priest there remembered me better 
than you appear to have done, for he assured me just now 
that I seemed familiar to him, and that I must have been 
with him in the boat, out of which he fell into the water. 
I was so, truly enough; for I was the water-spout that car- 
ried him out of it and washed him safely ashore for your 
wedding.” 

Undine and the knight turned toward Father Heilmann; 
but he seemed walking on, as in a sort of dream, and no 
longer to be conscious of all that was passing. Undine 
then said to Kuhleborn: “I see yonder the end of the 
forest. We no longer need your help, and nothing causes 
us alarm but yourself. I beg you, therefore, in all love and 
good will, vanish, and let us proceed in peace.” 

Kuhleborn seemed to become angry at this; his coun- 
tenance assumed a frightful expression, and he grinned 
fiercely at Undine, who screamed aloud and called upon 
her husband for assistance. As quick as lightning, the 
knight sprang to the other side of the horse, and aimed 
his sharp sword at Kiihleborn’s head. But the sword cut 
through a waterfall, which was rushing down near them 
from a lofty crag; and with a splash, which almost 
sounded like a burst of laughter, it poured over them and 
wet them through to the skin. 

The priest, as if suddenly awaking, exclaimed: “ I have 
long been expecting that, for the stream ran down from 
the height so close to us. At first it really seemed to me 


46 


UNDINE, 


like a man, and as if it could speak.” As the waterfall 
came rushing down, it distinctly uttered these words in 
Huld brandy's ear: 

“ Rash knight, 

Brave knight, 

Rage, feel I not. 

Chide, will I not. 

But ever guard thy little wife as well. 

Rash knight, brave knight! Protect her well !” 

A few footsteps more, and they were upon open ground. 
The imperial city lay bright before them, and the evening 
sun, which gilded its towers, kindly dried the garments of 
the drenched wanderers. 


CHAPTER X. 

HOW THEY LIVED THE CITY. 

The sudden disappearance of the young knight, Huld- 
brand von Ringstetten, from the imperial city, had 
caused great sensation and solicitude among those who had 
admired him, both for his skill in the tournament and the 
dance, and no less so for his gentle and agreeable manners. 
His servants would nob quit the place without their master, 
although not one of them would have had the courage to 
go in quest of him into the shadowy recesses of the forest. 
They therefore remained in their quarters, inactively 
hoping, as men are wont to do, and keeping alive the 
remembrance of their lost lord by their lamentations. 
When, soon after, the violent storms and floods were 
observed, the less doubt was entertained as to the certain 
destruction of the handsome stranger; and Bertalda 
openly mourned for him and blamed herself for having 
allured the unfortunate knight into the forest. Her 
foster-parents, the duke and duchess, had como to fetch 


UNDINE. 


47 


her away, but Bertalda entreated them to remain with her 
until certain intelligence had been obtained of Huldbrand^s 
fate. She endeavored to prevail upon several young 
knights, who were eagerly courting her, to follow the 
noble adventurer to the forest. But she would not pledge 
her hand as a reward of the enterprise, because she always 
cherished the hope of belonging to the returning knight, 
and no glove, nor riband, nor even kiss, would tempt any 
one to expose his life for the sake of bringing back such a 
dangerous rival. 

When Huldbrand now suddenly and unexpectedly ap- 
peared, his servants, and the inhabitants of the city, and 
almost every one, rejoiced. Bertalda alone refused to do 
so; for agreeable as it was to the others that he should 
bring with him such a beautiful bride, and Father Heil- 
mann as a witness of the marriage, Bertalda could feel 
nothing but grief and vexation. In the first place, she 
had really loved the young knight with all her heart, and 
in the next, her sorror at his absence had proclaimed this 
far more before the eyes of all, than was now befitting. 
She still, however, conducted herself as a wise maiden, 
reconciled herself to circumstances, and lived on the most 
friendly terms with Undine, who was looked upon through- 
out the city as a princess whom Huldbrand had rescued 
in the forest from some evil enchantment. When she or 
her husband were questioned on the matter, they were wise 
enough to be silent or skillfully to evade the inquiries. 
Father Heilmann^s lips were sealed to idle gossip of any 
kind, and moreover, immediately after Huldbrand^s arrival, 
he had returned to his monastery; so that people were 
obliged to be satisfied with their own strange conjectures, 
and even Bertalda herself knew no more of the truth than 
others. 

Day by day. Undine felt her affection increase for the 
fair maiden. We must have known each other before, 


48 


UNDINE. 


she often used to say to her, ^^or else, there must be some 
mysterious connection between us, for one does not love 
another as dearly as I have loved you from the first mo- 
ment of our meeting, without some cause — some deep and 
secret cause/^ And Bertalda also could not deny the fact 
that she felt drawn to Undine with a tender feeling of con- 
fidence, however much she might consider that she had 
cause for the bitterest lamentation at this successful rival. 
Biased by this mutual affection, they both persuaded — 
the one her foster-parents, the other her husband — to post- 
pone the day of departure from time to time; indeed, it 
was even proposed that Bertalda should accompany Undine 
for a time to castle Ringstetten, near the source of the 
Danube. 

They were talking over this plan one beautiful evening, 
as they were walking by starlight in the large square of 
the Imperial city, under the tall trees that inclose it. The 
young married pair had invited Bertalda to join them in 
their svening walk, and all three were strolling up and 
down under the dark-blue sky, often interrupting their 
familiar talk to admire the magnificent fountain in the 
middle of the square, as its waters rushed and bubbled 
forth with wonderful beauty. It had a soothing happy 
influence upon them; between the shadows of the trees there 
stole glimmerings of light from the adjacent houses; a low 
murmur of children at play, and of others enjoying their 
walk, floated around them; they were so alone, and yet in 
the midst of the bright and living world; whatever had ap- 
peared difficult by day, now became smooth as of itself; and 
the three friends could no longer understand why the 
slightest hesitation had existed with regard to Bertalda’s 
visit to Ringstetten. Presently, just as they were 
on the point of fixing the day for their common de- 
parture, a tall man approached them from the middle of 
the square, bowed respectfully to the company, and said 


UNDINE, 


49 


something in the ear of the young wife. Displeased as she 
was afc the interruption and its cause, she stepped a little 
aside with the stranger, and both began to whisper together, 
as it seemed, in a foreign tongue. Huldbrand fancied he 
knew the strange man, and he stared so fixedly at him 
that he neither heard nor answered Bertalda^s astonished 
inquiries. 

All at once Undine, clapping her hands joyfully, 
and laughing, quitted the stranger's side, who, shaking 
his head, retired hastily and discontentedly, and vanished 
in the fountain. Huldbrand now felt certain on the 
point, but Bertalda asked: ^^And what did the master of 
the fountain want with you, dear Undine?" 

The young wife laughed within herself, and replied : 

The day after to-morrow, my dear child, on the anni- 
versary of your name-day, you shall know it." And 
nothing more would she disclose. She invited Bertalda 
and sent an invitation to her foster-parents, to dine with 
them on the appointed day, and soon after they parted. 

^^Kiihleborn? was it Kuhleborn?" said Huldbrand, with 
a secret shudder, to his beautiful bride, when they had taken 
leave of Bertalda, and were now going home through the 
darkening streets. 

Yes, it was he," replied Undine; ^^and he was going 
to say all sorts of nonsensical things to me. But, in the 
midst, quite contrary to his intention, he delighted me 
with a most welcome piece of news. If you wish to hear it 
at once, my dear lord and husband, you have but to com- 
mand, and I will tell it you without reserve. But if you 
would confer a real pleasure on your Undine, you will wait 
till the day after to-morrow, and you will then have your 
share too in the surprise." 

The knight gladly complied with his wife's desire, which 
had been urged so sweetly, and as she fell asleep, she 
murmured smilingly to herself: Dear, dear Bertalda ! 


50 


UNDINE. 


How she will rejoice and be astonished at what her master 
of the fountain told me!” 


OHAPTEK XL 

THE AHHIVERSARY OF BERTALDA^S NAME-DAY. 

The company were sitting at dinner; Bertalda, looking 
like some goddess of spring with her flowers and jewels, 
the presents of her foster-parents and friends, was placed 
between Undine and Huldbrand. When the rich repast 
was ended, and the last course had appeared, the doors 
were left open, according to a good old German custom, 
that the common people might look on, and take part in 
the festivity of the nobles. Servants were carrying round 
cake and wine among the spectators. Huldbrand and 
Bertalda were waiting with secret impatience for the 
promised explanation, and sat with their eyes fixed steadily 
on Undine. Bat the beautiful wife still continued silent, 
and only kept smiling to herself with secret and hearty 
satisfaction. All who knew of the promise she had given, 
could see that she was every moment on the point of 
betraying her happy secret, and that it was with a sort of 
longing renunciation that she withheld it, just as children 
sometimes delay the enjoyment of their choicest morsels. 
Bertalda and Huldbrand shared this delightful feeling, 
and expected with fearful hope the tidings which were to 
fall from the lips of Undine. Several of the company 
pressed Undine to sing. The request seemed opportune, 
and ordering her lute to be brought, she sang the follow- 
ing words: 


Bright opening day, 

Wild flowers so gay, 

Tall grasses their thirst that slake, 
On the hanks of the billowy lake! 


UNDINE, 


51 


What glimmers there so shining 
The reedy growth entwining ? 

Is it a blossom white as snow 
Fallen from heav’n here below? 

It is an infant, frail and dear! 

With flowerets playing in its dreams 
And grasping morning’s golden beams; 

Oh! whence, sweet stranger, art thou here? 

From some far-off and unknown strand. 

The lake has borne thee to this land. 

Nay, grasp not tender little one. 

With thy tiny hand outspread; 

No hand will meet thy touch with love, 

Mute is that flowery bed. 

The flowers can deck themselves so fair 
And breathe forth fragrance blest. 

Yet none can press thee to itself. 

Like that far-off mother’s breast. 

So early at the gate of life, 

With smiles of heav’n on thy brow. 

Thou hast the best of treasures lost, 

Poor wand’ring child, nor know’st it now. 

A noble duke comes riding by. 

And near thee checks his courser’s speed, 

And full of ardent chivalry 
He bears thee home upon his steed. 

Much, endless much, has been thy gain! 

Thou bloom’st the fairest in the land! 

Yet ah! the priceless joy of all, 

Thou’st left upon an unknown strand. 

Undine dropped her lute with a melancholy smile, and 
the eyes of Bertalda^s foster-parents were filled with tears. 

Yes, so it was on the morning that I found you, my poor 
sweet orphan, said the duke, deeply agitated; the beau- 


UNDINE. 


52 

tiful singer is certainly right; we have not been able to 
give you that ^ priceless joy of all/ 

‘‘But we must also hear how it fared with the poor 
parents/" said Undine, as she resumed her lute, and sang: 

Tliro’ every cliamber roams the mother, 

Moves and searches everywhere, 

Seeks, she scarce knows what, with sadness. 

And finds an empty house is there. 

An empty house! Oh, word of sorrow. 

To her who once had been so blest. 

Who led her child about by day 
And cradled it at night to rest. 

The beech ‘is growing green again. 

The sunshine gilds its wonted spot. 

But mother, cease thy searching vain! 

Thy little loved one cometh not. 

And when the breath of eve blows cool. 

And father in his home appears. 

The smile he almost tries to wear 
Is quenched at once by gushing tears. 

Full well he knows that in his home 
He naught can find but wild despair. 

He hears the mother’s grieved lament 
And no bright infant greets him there. 

“Oh! for Grod"s sake. Undine, where are my parents?"" 
cried the weeping Bertalda; “ you surely know; you have 
discovered them, you wonderful being, for otherwise you 
would not have thus torn my heart. Are they perhaps 
already here? Can it be?"" Her eye passed quickly over 
the brilliant company and lingered on a lady of high rank 
who was sitting next her foster-father. Undine, however, 
turned toward the door, while her eyes overflowed with the 
sweetest emotion. “ Where are the poor waiting parents?"" 
she inquired, and the old fisherman and his wife advanced 


UNDINE. 


53 


hesitatingly from the crowd of spectators. Their glance 
rested inquiringly now on Undine, now on the beautiful 
girl who was said to be their daughter. It is she,^"* said 
the delighted benefactress, in a faltering tone, and the two 
old people hung round the neck of their recovered child, 
weeping and praising God. 

But amazed and indignant, Bertalda tore herself from 
their embrace. Such a recognition was too much for this 
proud mind, at a moment when she had surely imagined 
that her former splendor would even be increased, and 
when hope was deluding her with a vision of almost royal 
honors. It seemed to her as if her rival had devised all 
this on purpose signally to humble her before Huid brand 
and the whole world. She reviled Undine, she reviled the 
old people, and bitter invectives, such as ^‘deceiver and 
‘‘bribed impostors,"" fell from her lips. Then the old fish- 
erman"s wife said in a low voice to herself: “Ah me, she 
is become a wicked girl; and yet I feel in my heart that she 
is my child."" 

The old fisherman, however, had folded his hands, and 
was praying silently that this might not be his daughter. 
Undine, pale as death, turned with agitation from the 
parents to Bertalda, and from Bertalda to the parents; sud- 
denly cast down from that heaven of happiness of which 
she had dreamed, and overwhelmed with a fear and a ter- 
ror such as she had never known even in imagination. 
“Have you a soul? Have you really a soul, Bertalda?"" 
she cried again and again to her angry friend, as if for- 
cibly to rouse her to consciousness from some sudden deli- 
rium or maddening nightmare. But when Bertalda only 
became more and more enraged, when the repulsed parents 
began to weep aloud, and the company, in eager dispute, 
were taking different sides, she begged in such a dignified 
and serious manner to be allowed to speak in this her hus- 
band"s hall, that all around were in a moment silenced. 


54 


UNDINE. 


She then advanced to the upper end of the table, where 
Bertalda had seated herself, and with a modest and yet 
proud air, while every eye was fixed upon her, she spoke 
as follows: 

My friends, you look so angry and disturbed, and you 
have interrupted my happy feast by your disputings. Ah! 

I knew nothing of your foolish habits and your heartless 
mode of thinking, and I shall never all my life long 
become accustomed to them. It is not my fault that this 
affair has resulted in evil; believe me, the fault is with your- 
selves alone, little as it may appear to you to be so. I have 
therefore but little to say to you, but one thing I must say: 

I have spoken nothing but truth. I neither can nor • 
will give you proofs beyond my own assertion, but I will 
swear to the truth of this. I received this information 
from the very person who allured Bertalda into the water, 
away from her parents, and who afterward placed her on 
the green meadow in the duke’s path.” 

She is an enchantress!” cried Bertalda, a witch, who 
has intercourse with evil spirits. She acknowledges it 
herself. ” S 

do not,” said Undine, with a whole heaven of inno- ' 
cence and confidence beaming in her eyes. I am no 
witch; only look at me!” 

^^She is false and boastful,” interrupted Bertalda, 
^^and she cannot prove that I am the child of these low i 
people. My noble parents, I beg you to take me j 
from this company and out of this city, where they are j 
only bent on insulting me.” ! 

But the aged and honorable duke remained unmoved, ( 
and his wife said: ^MYe must thoroughly examine how ? 
we are to act. God forbid that we should move a step ( 
from this hall until we have done so.” I 

Then the old wife of the fisherman drew near, and ; 
making a low reverence to the duchess, she said: ^'Xoble, | 


UNDINE. 


55 


I god-fearing lady, you have opened my heart. I must tell 
I you, if this evil-disposed young lady is my daughter, she 
I has a mark, like a violet, between her shoulders, and 
I another like it on the instep of her left foot. If she would 
I only go out of the hall with me!^' 

I 1 shall not uncover myself before the peasant woman?” 
j exclaimed Bertalda, proudly turning her back on her. 

But before me you will,” rejoined the duchess, very 
gravely. Follow me into that room, girl, and the good 
old woman shall come with us.” The three disappeared, 
and the rest of the company remained where they were, in 
silent expectation. After a short time they returned ; 
Bertalda was pale as death. Right is right,” said the 
duchess; must therefore declare that our hostess has 
spoken perfect truth. Bertalda is the fisherman^s daugh- 
ter, and that is as much as it is necessary to inform you 
here.” 

The princely pair left with their adopted daughter; and 
at a sign from the duke, the fisherman and his wife fol- 
lowed them. The other guests retired in silence or with 
secret murmurs, and Undine sank weeping into Huld- 
brand^s arms. 


CHAPTER XII. 

HOW THEY DEPARTED FROM THE IMPERIAL CITY. 

The lord of Ringstetten would have certainly preferred 
the events of this day to have been different; but even as 
they were, he could scarcely regret them wholly, as they 
had exhibited his charming wife under such a good and 
sweet and kindly aspect. If I have given her a soul,” 
he could not help saying to himself, ‘^I have indeed given 
her a better one than my own;” and his only thought now 
was to speak soothingly to the weeping Undine^ and on the 


66 


UNDINE, 


following morning to quit with her a place which, after 
this incident, must have become distasteful to her. It is 
true that she was not estimated differently to what she had 
been. As something mysterious had long been expected of 
her, the strange discovery of Bertalda^s origin had caused 
no great surprise, and every one who had heard the story 
and had seen Bertalda^s violent behavior, was disgusted 
with her alone. Of this, however, the knight and his lady 
knew nothing as yet; and, besides, the condemnation or 
approval of the public was equally painful to Undine, and 
thus there was no better course to pursue than to leave 
the walls of the old city behind them with all the speed 
possible. 

With the earliest beams of morning a pretty carriage 
drove up to the entrance gate for Undine ; the horses 
■which Huld brand and his squires were to ride stood near, 
pawing the ground with impatient eagerness. The knight 
was leading his beautiful wife from the door, when a 
fisher -girl crossed their way. We do not need your 
fish,^^ said Huldbrand to her, we are now starting on our 
journey.^^ Upon this the fisher-girl began to weep bit- 
terly, and the young couple perceived for the first time 
that it was Bertalda. They immediately returned with 
her to their apartment, and learned from her that the 
duke and duchess were so displeased at her violent and 
unfeeling conduct on the preceding day, that they had 
entirely withdrawn their protection from her, though not 
without giving her a rich portion. 

The fisherman, too, had been handsomely rewarded, and 
had the evening before set out with his wife to return to 
thedr secluded home. 

I would have gone with them,'' she continued, but 
the old fisherman, who is said to be my father " 

''And he is so indeed, Bertalda," interrupted Undine. 
"Look here, the. stranger, whom you took for the master 


UNDINE, 


57 


of the fountain, told me the whole story in detail. He 
wished to dissuade me from taking you with me to castle 
Ringstetten, and this led him to disclose the secret. 

“Well then,” said Bertalda, “if it must be so, my 
father said, ^ I will not take you with me until you are 
changed. Venture to come to us alone through the 
haunted forest; that shall be the proof whether you have 
any regard for us. But do not come to me as a lady; 
come only as a fisher-girl!’ So I will do just as he has 
told me, for I am forsaken by the whole world, and I will 
live and die in solitude as a poor fisher-girl, with my poor 
parents. I have a terrible dread though of the forest. 
Horrible specters are said to dwell in it, and I am so fear- 
ful. But how can I help it? I only came here to implore 
pardon of the noble lady of Ringstetten for my unbecom- 
ing behavior yesterday. I feel sure, sweet lady, you meant 
to do me a kindness, but you knew not how you would 
wound me, and in my agony and surprise, many a rash 
and frantic expression passed my lips. Oh forgive, for- 
give! I am already so unhappy. Only think yourself 
what I was yesterday morning, yesterday at the beginning 
of your banquet, and what I am now!” 

Her voice became stifled with a passionate flood of tears, 
and Undine, also weeping bitterly, fell on her neck. It 
was some time before the deeply agitated Undine could 
utter a word; at length she said: 

“You can go with us to Ringstetten; everything shall 
remain as it was arranged before; only do not speak to me 
again as ‘ noble lady.’ You see, we were exchanged for 
each other as children; our faces even then sprang as it 
were from the same stem, and we will now so strengthen 
this kindred destiny that no human power shall be able to 
separate it. Only, first of all, come with us to Ringstet- 
ten. We will discuss there how we shall share all things 
as sisters.” 


58 


UNDINE. 


Bertalda looked timidly toward Huldbrand. He pitied 
the beautiful girl in her distress, and offering her his hand 
he begged her tenderly to entrust herself with him and his 
wife. "^We will send a message to your parents,"^ he 
continued, ^^to tell them why you are not come;” and he 
would have added more with regard to the worthy fisher- 
man and his wife, but he saw that Bertalda shrunk with 
pain from the mention of their name, and he therefore 
refrained from saying more. 

He then assisted her first into the carriage. Undine fol- 
lowed her; and he mounted his horse and trotted 
merrily by the side of them, urging the driver at the 
same time to hasten his speed, so that very soon they were 
beyond the confines of the imperial city and all its sad 
remembrances; and now the ladies began to enjoy the 
beautiful country through which their road lay. 

After a journey of some days, they arrived one exquisite 
evening, at castle Rings tetten. The young knight had 
much to hear from his overseers and vassals, so that 
Undine and Bertalda were left alone. 

They both repaired to the ramparts of the fortress, and 
were delighted with the beautiful landscape which spread 
far and wide through fertile Swabia. 

Presently a tall man approached them, greeting them 
respectfully, and Bertalda fancied she saw a resemblance 
to the master of the fountain in the imperial city. Still 
more unmistakable grew the likeness, when Undine 
angrily and almost threateningly waved him off, and he 
retreated with hasty steps and shaking head, as he had 
done before, and disappeared into a neighboring copse. 
Undine, however, said: Don’t be afraid, dear Bertalda, 
this time the hateful master of the fountain shall do you 
no harm.” And then she told her the whole story in 
detail, and who she was herself, and how Bertalda had 
been taken away from the fisherman and his wife, and 


UNDINE. 


59 


Undine had gone to them. The girl was at first terrified 
with this relation; she imagined her friend must be seized 
with sadden madness, but she became more convinced 
that all was true, for Undine^s story was so connected, and 
fitted so well with former occurrences, and still more she 
had that inward feeling with which truth never fails to 
make itself known to us. It seemed strange to her that 
she was now herself living, as it were, in the midst of one 
of those fairy tales to which she had formerly only 
listened. 

She gazed upon Undine with reverence, but she could 
not resist a sense of dread that seemed to come between 
her and her friend, and at their evening repast she could 
not but wonder how the knight could behave so lovingly 
and kindly toward a being who appeared to her, since the 
discovery she had just made, more of a phantom tliat a 
human being. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

HOW THEY LIVED AT CASTLE RIHOSTETTEH. 

The writer of this story, both because it moves his own 
heart, and because he wishes it to move that of others, 
begs you, dear reader, to pardon him, if he now briefiy passes 
over a considerable space of time, only cursorily mention- 
ing the events that marked it. He knows well that he 
might portray skillfully, step by step, how Huldbrand's 
heart began to turn from Undine to Bertalda; how Ber- 
talda more and more responded with ardent affection to 
the young knight, and how they both looked upon the 
poor wife as a mysterious being rather to be feared 
than pitied; how Undine wept, and how her tears 
stung the knighPs heart with remorse without awakening 
his former love, so that though he at times was kind and 


60 


UNDINE. 


endearing to her, a cold shudder would soon draw him 
from her, and he would turn to his fellow-mortal, Ber- 
talda. All this the writer knows might be fully detailed, 
and perhaps ought to have been so ; but such a task 
would have been too painful, for similar things have 
been known to him by sad experience, and he shrinks from 
their shadow even in remembrance. You know probably 
a like feeling, dear reader, for such is the lot of mortal 
man. Happy are you if you have received rather than 
inflicted the pain, for in such things it is more blessed to 
receive than to give. If it be so, such recollections will 
only bring a feeling of sorrow to your mind, and perhaps 
a tear will trickle down your cheek over the faded flowers 
that once caused you such delight. But let that be 
enough. We will not pierce our hearts with a thousand 
separate things, but only briefly state, as I have just said, 
how matters were. 

Poor Undine was very sad, and the other two were 
not to be called happy. Bertalda especially thought 
that she could trace the effect of jealousy on the 
part of the injured wife whenever her wishes were in any 
way thwarted by her. She had therefore habituated 
herself to an imperious demeanor, to which Undine yielded 
in sorrowful submission, and the now blinded Huldbrand 
usually encouraged this arrogant behavior in the strongest 
manner. But the circumstance that most of all disturbed 
the inmates of the castle, was a variety of wonderful ap- 
paritions which met Huldbrand and Bertalda in the 
vaulted galleries of the castle, and which had never been 
heard of before as haunting the locality. The tall white 
man, in whom Huldbrand recognized only too plainly 
Uncle Kiihleborn, and Bertalda the spectral master of the 
fountain, often passed before them with a threatening 
aspect, and especially before Bertalda; so much so, 
that she had already several times been made ill with 


UNDINE, 


61 


terror, and had frequently thought of quitting the 
castle. But still she stayed there, partly because Huld- 
brand was so dear to her, and she relied on her innocence, 
no words of love having ever passed between them, and 
partly also because she knew not whither to direct her 
steps. The old fisherman, on receiving the message from 
the lord of Kingstetten that Bertalda was his guest, had 
written a few lines in an almost illegible hand, hut as good 
as his advanced age and long disuse would admit of. 

I have now become,” he wrote, ^^a poor old widower, 
for my dear and faithful wife is dead. However lonely I 
now sit in my cottage, Bertalda is better with you than 
with me. Only let her do nothing to harm my beloved 
Undine! She will have my curse if *it be so.” The last 
words of this letter, Bertalda flung to the winds, but she 
carefully retained the part respecting her absence from 
her father — just as we are all wont to do in similar 
circumstances. 

One day, when Huldbrand had just ridden out. Undine 
summoned together the domestics of the family, and or- 
dered them to bring a large stone, and carefully to cover 
with it the magnificent fountain which stood in the 
middle of the castle-yard. The servants objected that it 
would oblige them to bring water from the valley below. 
Undine smiled sadly. I am sorry, my people,” she re- 
plied, to increase your work. I would rather myself 
fetch up the pitchers, but this fountain must be closed. 
Believe me that it cannot be otherwise, and that it is only 
by so doing that we can avoid a greater evil.” 

The whole household were glad to be able to please 
their gentle mistress ; they made no further inquiry, 
but seized the enormous stone. They were just raising 
it in their hands, and were already poising it over the 
fountain, when Bertalda came running up, and called out 
to them to stop, as it was from this fountain that the water 


62 


UNBINE, 


was brought which was so good for her complexion, and 
she would never consent to its being closed. Undine, how- 
ever, although gentle as usual, was more than usually 
firm. She told Bertalda that it was her due, as mistress 
of the house, to arrange her household as she thought 
best, and that, in this, she was accountable to no one but 
her lord and husband. See, oh, pray see,^'’ exclaimed Ber- 
talda, in an angry, yet uneasy tone, how the poor beautiful 
water is curling and writhing at being shut out from the 
bright sunshine and from the cheerful sight of the human 
face, for whose mirror it was created!^' 

The water in the fountain was indeed wonderfully 
agitated and hissing; it seemed as if something within 
were struggling to free itself, but Undine only the more 
earnestly urged the fulfillment of her orders. The earn- 
estness was scarcely needed. The servants of the castle 
were as happy in obeying their gentle mistress as in oppos- 
ing Bertalda’s haughty defiance; and in spite of all the 
rude scolding and threatening of the latter the stone was 
soon firmly lying over the opening of the fountain. Un- 
dine leaned thoughtfully over it, and wrote with her 
beautiful fingers on its surface. She must, however, have 
had something very sharp and cutting in her hand, for 
when she turned away, and the servants drew near to ex- 
amine the stone, they perceived various strange characters 
upon it, which none of them had seen there before. 

Bertalda received the knight, on his return home in the 
evening, with tears and complaints of Undine’s conduct, 
lie cast a serious look at his poor wife, and she looked 
down as is distressed. Yet she said with great composure: 
“ My lord and husband does not reprove even a bondslave 
without a hearing, how much less, then, his wedded 
wife?” 

“Speak,” said the knight wdth a gloomy countenance, 
“ what induced you to act so strangely?” 


UNDINE. 


63 


1 should like to tell you when we are quite alone,” 
sighed Undine. 

“You can tell me just as well in Bertalda^s presence,” 
was the rejoinder. 

“Yes, if you command me,” said Undine; but com- 
mand it not. Oh pray, pray command it not!” 

She looked so humble, so sweet, and obedient, that the 
knight’s heart felt a passing gleam from better times. He 
kindly placed her arm within his own, and led her to his 
apartment, when she began to speak as follows: 

“You already know, my beloved lord, something of my 
evil uncle, Kuhleborn, and you have frequently been dis- 
pleased at meeting him in the galleries of this castle. He 
has several times frightened Bertalda into illness. This is 
because he is devoid of soul, a mere elemental mirror of 
the outward world, without the power of reflecting the 
world within. He sees, too, sometimes, that you are dis- 
satisfied with me; that I, in my childishness, am weeping 
at this, and that Bertalda perhaps is at the very same 
moment laughing. Hence he imagines various discrepan- 
cies in our home life, and in many ways mixes unbidden 
with our circle. What is the good of reproving him? 
What is the use of sending him angrily away? He does 
not believe a word I say. His poor nature has no idea 
that the joys and sorrows of love have so sweet a resem- 
blance, and are so closely linked that no power can sepa- 
rate them. Amid tears a smile shines forth, and a smile 
allures tears from their secret chambers.” 

She looked up at Huldbrand, smiling and weeping; and 
he again experienced within his heart all the charm of his 
old love. She felt this, and pressing him more tenderly to 
her, she continued amid tears of joy: 

“As the disturber of our peace was not to be dismissed 
with words, I have been obliged to shut the door upon 
him. And the only door by which he obtains access to us 


64 


UNDINE. 


is that fountain. He is cut off by the adjacent valleys 
from the other water-spirits in the neighborhood, and his 
kingdom only commences further off on the Danube, into 
which some of his good friends direct their course. For 
this reason I had the stone placed over the opening of the 
fountain, and I inscribed characters upon it which cripple 
all my uncle^s power, so that he can now neither intrude 
upon you, nor upon me, nor upon Bertalda. Human 
beings, it is true, can raise the stone again with ordinai’y 
effort, in spite of the characters inscribed on it. The 
inscription does not hinder them. If you wish, therefore, 
follow Bertalda’s desire, but, truly! she knows not what 
she asks. The rude Kuhleborn has set his mark especially 
upon her; and if much came to pass which he has pre- 
dicted to me, and which might, indeed, happen without 
your meaning any evil, ah! dear one, even you would then 
be exposed to danger !^^ 

Huldbrand felt deeply the generosity of his sweet wife, 
in her eagerness to shut up her formidable protector, while 
she had even been chided for it by Bertalda. He pressed 
her in his arms with the utmost affection, and said with 
emotion: The stone shall remain, and all shall remain, 

now and ever, as you wish to have it, my sweet 
Undine. 

She caressed him with humble delight, as she heard the 
expressions of love so long withheld, and then at length 
she said: My dearest husband, you are so gentle and 
kind to-day, may I venture to ask a favor of you? See 
now, it is just the same with you as it is with summer. In 
the height of its glory, summer puts on the flaming and 
thundering crown of mighty storms, and assumes the air 
of a king over the earth. You, too, sometimes, let your 
fury rise, and your eyes flash and your voice is angry, and 
this becomes you well, though I, in my folly, may some- 
times weep at it. But never, I pray you, behave thus 


UNDINE. 


65 


toward me on the water, or even when we are near it. You 
see, my relatives would then acquire a right over me. 
They would unrelentingly tear me from you in their rage; 
because they would imagine that one of their race was 
injured, and I should be compelled all my life to dwell 
below in the crystal palaces, and should never dare to 
ascend to you again; or they would send me up to you — 
and that, oh God, would be infinitely worse. No, no, my 
beloved husband, do not let it come to that, if your poor 
Undine is dear to you. ’^ 

He promised solemnly to do as she desired, and they 
both returned from the apartment, full of happiness and 
affection. At that moment Bertalda appeared with some 
workmen, to whom she had already given orders, and said 
in a sullen tone, w'hich she had assumed of late: ^‘1 sup- 
pose the secret conference is at an end, and now the 
stone may be removed. Go out, workmen, and attend 
to it."" 

But the knight, angry at her impertinence, desired in 
short and very decisive words that the stone should be left; 
he reproved Bertalda, too, for her violence toward his 
wife. Whereupon the workmen withdrew, smiling with 
secret satisfaction; while Bertalda, pale with rage, hurried 
away to her room. 

The hour for the evening repast arrived, and Bertalda 
was waited for in vain. They sent after her, but the 
domestic found her apartments empty, and only brought 
back with him a sealed letter addressed to the knight. 
He opened it with alarm, and read: feel with shame 

that I am only a poor fisher-girl. I will expiate my fault 
in having forgotten this for a moment by going to the 
miserable cottage of my parents. Farewell to you and 
your beautiful wife."" 

Undine was heartily distressed. She earnestly entreated 
Huld brand to hasten after their friend and bring her back 


66 


UNDINE. 


again. Alas! she had no need to urge him. His affection 
for Bertalda burst forth again with vehemence. He 
hurried round the castle, inquiring if any one had seen 
which way the fugitive had gone. He could learn nothing 
of her, and he was already on his horse in the castle-yard, 
resolved at a venture to take the road by which he had 
brought Bertalda hither. Just then a page appeared, who 
assured him that he had met the lady on the path to the 
Black Valley. Like an arrow the knight sprang through 
the gateway in the direction indicated, without hearing 
LTndine^s voice of agony, as she called to him from the 
window: 

‘^To the Black Valley! Oh, not there! Huldbrand, 
don’t go there! or, for heaven’s sake, take me with you!” 
But when she perceived that all her calling was in vain, 
she ordered her white palfrey to be immediately saddled, 
and rode after the knight, without allowing any servant 
to accompany her. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

_^OW BERTALDA RETURNED HOME WITH THE KNIGHT. 

The Black Valley lies deep within the mountains. 
What it is now called we do not know. At that time 
the people of the country gave it this appellation on ac- 
count of the deep obscurity in which the low land lay, 
owing to the shadows of the lofty trees, and especially 
firs, that grew there. Even the brook which bubbled be- 
tween the rocks wore the same dark hue, and dashed 
along with none of that gladness with which streams are 
wont to flow that have the blue sky immediately above 
them. Now, in the growing twilight of evening, it 
looked wild and gloomy between the heights. The 
knight trotted anxiously along the edge of the brook. 


UNDINE. 


67 


fearful at one moment that by delay he might allow the 
fugitive to advance too far, and at the next that by too 
great rapidity he might overlook her in case she were 
concealing herself from him. Meanwhile he had already 
penetrated tolerably far into the valley, and might soon 
hope to overtake the maiden, if he were on the right track. 
The fear that this might not be the case made his heart 
beat with anxiety. Where would the tender Bertalda 
tarry through the stormy night, which was so fearful 
in the valley, should he fail to find her? At length he 
saw something white gleaming through the branches on 
the slope of the mountain. He thought he recognized 
liertalda’s dress, and he turned his course in that direc- 
tion. But his horse refused to go forward; it reared im- 
patiently; and its master, unwilling to lose a moment, and 
seeing moreover that the copse was impassable on horse- 
back, dismounted; and, fastening his snorting steed to an 
elm-tree, he worked his way cautiously through the bushes. 
The branches sprinkled his forehead and cheeks with the 
cold drops of the evening dew; a distant roll of thunder 
was heard murmuring from the other side of the mount- 
tains; everything looked so strange that he began to feel 
a dread of the white figure, which now lay only a short 
distance from him on the ground. Still he could plainly 
see that it was a female, either asleep or in a swoon, and 
that she was attired in long white garments, such as Ber- 
talda had worn on that day. He stepped close up to her, 
made a rustling with the branches, and let his sword clat- 
ter, but she moved not. Bertalda!’^ he exclaimed, at 
first in a low voice, and then louder and louder — still she 
heard not. At last, when he uttered the dear name with 
a more powerful effort, a hollow echo from the mountain- 
caverns of the valley indistinctly reverberated Bertalda!'^ 
but still the sleeper woke not. He bent down over her; 
the gloom of the valley and the obscurity of approaching 
night would not allow him to distinguish her features. 


68 


UNDINE. 


Just as he was stooping closer over her, with a feeling of 
painful doubt, a flash of lightning shot across the valley, 
and he saw before him a frightfully distorted countenance, 
and a hollow voice exclaimed: ^^Give me a kiss, you 
enamored swain!” 

Huldbrand sprang up with a cry of horror, and the 
hideous figure rose with him. Go home!” it murmured; 

wizards are on the watch. Go home! or I will have you!” 
and it stretched out its long white arms toward him. 

Malicious Kiihleborn!” cried the knight, recovering 
himself, ‘‘ What do you concern me, you goblin? There, 
take your kiss!” And he furiously hurled his sword at the 
figure. But it vanished like vapor, and a gush of water 
'which wetted him through left the knight no doubt as to 
the foe with whom he had been engaged. 

He wishes to frighten me back from Bertalda,” said he 
aloud to himself; ‘Mie thinks to terrify me with his foolish 
tricks, and to make me give up the poor distressed girl to 
him, so that he can wreak his vengeance on her. But he 
shall not do that, weak spirit of the elements, as he is. No 
powerless phantom can understand what a human heart 
can do when its best energies are aroused.” He felt the 
truth of his words, and that the very expression of them 
had inspired his heart with fresh courage. It seemed too 
as if fortune were on his side, for he had not reached his 
fastened horse, when he distinctly heard Bertalda’s plain- 
tive voice not far distant, and could catch her weeping ac- 
cents through the ever increasing tumult of the thunder and 
tempest. He hurried swiftly in the direction of the sound, 
and found the trembling girl just attempting to climb the 
steep, in order to escape in any way from the dreadful 
gloom of the valley. He stepped, however, lovingly in her 
path, and bold and proud as her resolve had before been, 
she now felt only too keenly the delight, that the friend 
whom she so pns9if)n;d(>ly lovod ‘should rescue her from this 


UNDINE. 


69 


frightful solitude, and that the joyous life in the castle 
should be again open to her. She followed almost unre- 
sisting, but so exhausted with fatigue that the knight was 
glad to have brought her to his horse, which he now 
hastily unfastened, in order to lift the fair fugitive upon 
it; and then, cautiously holding the reins, he hoped to 
proceed through the uncertain shades of the valley. 

But the horse had become quite unmanageable from the 
wild apparition of Kiilileborn. Even the knight would 
have had difficulty in mounting the rearing and snorting 
animal, but to place the trembling Bertalda on its back 
was perfectly impossible. They determined, therefore, to 
return home on foot. Drawing the horse after him by 
the bridle, the knight supported the tottering girl with his 
other hand. Bertalda exerted all her strength to pass 
quickly through the fearful valley, but weariness weighed 
her down like lead, and every limb trembled, partly from 
the terror she had endured when Kiilileborn had pursued 
her, and partly from her continued alarm at the howling 
of the storm and the pealing of the thunder through the 
wooded mountain. 

At last she slid from the supporting arm of her pro- 
tector, and sinking down on the moss, she exclaimed: Let 
me lie here my noble lord; I suffer the punishment due to 
my folly, and I must now perish here through weariness 
and dread. 

^^No, sweet friend, I will never leave you!’^ cried Huld- 
brand, vainly endeavoring to restrain his furious steed; for, 
worse than before, it now began to foam and rear with ex- 
citement, until at last the knight was glad to keep the 
animal at a sufficient distance from the exhausted maiden, 
lest her fears should be increased. But scarcely had he with- 
drawn a few paces with the wild steed, than she began to call 
after him in the most pitiful maimer, believing that he was 
really going to leave her in this horrible wilderness. He 


10 


mDINB, 


was utterly at a loss what course to take. Gladly w’ould he 
have given the excited beast its liberty and have allowed it 
to rush away into the night and spend its fury, had he not 
feared that in this narrow defile it might come thundering 
with its iron-shod hoofs over the very spot where Bertalda 
lay. 

In the midst of this extreme perplexity and distress, he 
heard with delight the sound of a vehicle driving slowly 
down the stony road behind them. He called out for help; 
and a man’s voice replied, bidding him have patience, but 
promising assistance; and soon after, two gray horses ap- 
peared through the bushes, and beside them the driver in 
the white smock of a carter; a great white linen cloth was 
next visible, covering the goods apparently contained in 
the wagon. At a loud shout from their master, the 
obedient horses halted. The driver then came toward the 
knight, and helped him in restraining his foaming animal, 
see well,” said he what ails the beast. When I 
first traveled this way, my horses were no better. The fact 
is, there is an evil water-spirit haunting the place, and he 
takes delight in this sort of mischief. But I have learned 
a charm; if you will let me whisper it in your horse’s ear, 
he will stand at once just as quiet as my gray beasts are 
doing there.” 

Try your luck then, only help us quickly!” exclaimed 
the impatient knight. The wagoner then drew down the 
head of the rearing charger close to his own, and whispered 
something in his ear. In a moment the animal stood still 
and quiet, and his quick panting and reeking condition 
was all that remained of his previous unmanageableness. 
Huldbrand had no time to inquire how all this had been 
effected. He agreed with the carter that he should take 
Bertalda on his wagon, where, as the man assured him, 
there were a quantity of soft cotton-bales, upon which she 
could be conveyed to castle Ringstetten, and the knight was 


UNDINE. 


n 


to accompany them on horseback. But the horse appeared 
too much exhausted by its past fury to be able to carry its 
master so far, so the carter persuaded Huldbrand to get 
into the wagon with Bertalda. The horse could be 
fastened on behind. We are going down hill/’ said 
he, and that will make it light for my gray beasts.” 

The knight accepted the offer and entered the wagon 
with Bertalda; the horse followed patiently behind, and 
the wagoner, steady and attentive, walked by the side. 

In the stillness of the night, as its darkness deepened 
and the subsiding tempest sounded more and more remote, 
encouraged by the sense of security and their fortunate 
escape, a confidential conversation arose between Huld- 
brand and Bertalda. AVith flattering words he reproached 
her for her daring flight; she excused herself with humility 
and emotion, and from every word she said a gleam shone 
forth which disclosed distinctly to the lover that the 
beloved was his. The knight felt the sense of her words 
far more than he regarded their meaning, and it was the 
sense alone to which he replied. Presently the wagoner 
suddenly shouted with a loud voice: 

^‘Up, my grays, up with your feet, keep together! 
remember who you are!” 

The knight leaned out of the wagon and saw that the 
horses were stepping into the midst of a foaming stream 
or were already almost swimming, while the wheels of the 
wagon were rushing round and gleaming like mill-wheels, 
and the wagoner had got up in front, in consequence of 
the increasing waters. 

^^AVhat sort of a road is this? It goes into the middle 
of the stream,” cried Huldbrand to his guide. 

^^Not at all, sir,” returned the other, laughing, it is 
just the reverse, the stream goes into the very middle of 
our road. Look round and see how everything is covered 
by the water.” 


72 


UNDINE, 


The whole valley indeed was suddenly filled with the 
surging flood, that visibly increased. It is Kiihleborn, 
the evil water-spirit, who wishes to drown us!^^ exclaimed 
the knight. Have you no charm against him, my 
friend?’^ 

“ I know indeed of one,^^ returned the wagoner, but I 
cannot and may not use it until you know who I am.'^^ 

^^Is this a time for riddles?” cried the knight. The 
flood is ever rising higher, and what does it matter to me 
to know who you are?” 

It does matter to you, though,” said the wagoner, 
'^for I am Kiihleborn.” 

So saying, he thrust his distorted face into the wagon 
with a grin, but the wagon was a wagon no longer, the 
horses were not horses — all was transformed to foam and 
vanished in the hissing waves, and even the wagoner 
himself, rising as a gigantic billow, drew down the vainly 
struggling horse beneath the waters, and then swelling 
higher and higher, swept over the heads of the floating 
pair, like some liquid tower, threatening to bury them 
irrecoverably. 

Just then the soft voice of Undine sounded through the 
uproar, the moon emerged from the clouds, and by its 
light Undine was seen on the heights above the valley. 
She rebuked, she threatened the floods below; the men- 
acing, tower-like wave vanished, muttering and murmur- 
ing, the waters flowed gently away in the moonlight, and 
like a white dove. Undine flew down from the height, 
seized the knight and Bertalda, and bore them with her to 
a fresh, green, turfy spot on the hill, where with choice 
refreshing restoratives, she dispelled their terrors and 
weariness; then she assisted Bertalda to mount the white 
palfrey, on which she had herself ridden here, and thus 
all three returned back to castle Ringstetten. 


UNDINE, 


?3 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE JOURNEY TO VIENNA. 

After tLis last adventure, they lived quietly and hap- 
pily at the castle. The knight more and more perceived 
the heavenly goodness of his wife, which had been so 
nobly exhibited by her pursuit, and by her rescue of them 
in the Black Valley, where Kuhleborn^s power again com- 
menced; Undine herself felt that peace and security, which 
,is never lacking to a mind so long as it is distinctly con- 
/scious of being on the right path, and besides, in the 
^ewly awakened love and esteem of her husband, many a 
gleam of hope and joy shone upon her. Bertalda, on the 
other hand, showed herself grateful, humble and timid, 
without regarding her conduct as anything meritorious. 
Whenever Huld brand or Undine were about to give her 
any explanation regarding the covering of the fountain or 
the adventure in the Black Valley, she would earnestly 
entreat them to spare her the recital, as she felt too much 
shame at the recollection of the fountain, and too much 
fear at the remembrance of the Black Valley. She learned 
therefore nothing further of either ; and for what end 
was such knowledge necessary? Peace and joy had visibly 
taken up their abode at castle Ringstetten. They felt 
secure on this point, and imagined that life could now 
produce nothing but pleasant flowers and fruits. 

In this happy condition of things, winter had come and 
passed away, and spring with its fresh green shoots and its 
blue sky, was gladdening the joyous inmates of the castle. 
Spring was in harmony with them, and they with spring. 
What wonder then, that its storks and swallows inspired 
them also with a desire to travel ? One day when they 
were taking a pleasant walk to one of the sources of the 
Danube, Huldbrand spoke of the magnificence of the 


74 


UNDINE. 


noble river, and how it widened as it flowed through coun- 
tries fertilized by its waters, how the charming city of 
Vienna shone forth on its banks, and how with every step 
of its course it increased in power and loveliness. 

It must be glorious to go down the river as far as 
Vienna!’^ exclaimed Bertalda, but immediately relapsing 
into her present modesty and humility, she paused and 
blushed deeply. 

This touched Undine deeply, and with the liveliest 
desire to give pleasure to her friend, she said: What 
hinders us from starting on the little voyage?” 

Bertalda exhibited the greatest delight, and both she 
and Undine began at once to picture the tour of the 
Danube in the brightest colors. Huldbrand also gladly 
agreed to the prospect; only he once whispered anxiously 
in Undine's ear: 

But Kuhleborn becomes possessed of his power again 
out there!” 

^^Let him come,” she replied with a smile; shall be 
there, and he ventures upon none of his mischief before 
me.” The last impediment was thus removed; they pre- 
pared for the journey, and soon after set out upon it with 
fresh spirits and the brightest hopes. 

But wonder not, oh man, if events always turn out dif- 
ferent to what we have intended. That malicious power, 
lurking for our destruction, gladly lulls its chosen victim 
to sleep with sweet songs and golden delusions; while on 
the other hand the rescuing messenger from Heaven often 
knocks sharply and alarmingly at our door. 

During the first few days of their voyage down the 
Danube they were extremely happy. Everything grew 
more and more beautiful as they sailed further and further 
down the proudly flowing stream. But in a region, other- 
wise so pleasant, and in the enjoyment of which they had 
promised themselves the purest delight, the ungovernable 


UNDINE, 


75 


Kiilileborn began, undisguisedly, to exhibit his power of 
interference. This was indeed manifested in mere teasing 
tricks, for Undine often rebuked the agitated waves, or 
the contrary winds, and then the violence of the enemy 
would be immediately humbled; but again the attacks 
would be renewed, and again Undine’s reproofs would 
become necessary, so that the pleasure of the little party 
was completely destroyed. The boatmen too were con- 
tinually whispering to each other in dismay, and looking 
with distrust at the three strangers, whose servants even 
began more and more to forebode something uncomfort- 
able, and to watch their superiors with suspicious glances. 
Huldbrand often said to himself: ‘‘This comes from like 
not being linked with like, from a man uniting himself 
with a mermaid!” Excusing himself as we all love to do, 
he would often think indeed as he said this: “I did not 
really know that she was a sea-maiden, mine is the mis- 
fortune, that every step I take is disturbed and haunted by 
the wild caprices of her race, but mine is not the fault.” 
By thoughts such as these, he felt himself in some measure 
strengthened, but on the other hand, he felt increasing ill- 
humor, and almost animosity toward Undine. He would 
look at her with an expression of anger, the meaning of 
which the poor wife understood well. Wearied with this 
exhibition of displeasure, and exhausted by the constant 
effort to frustrate Kuhleborn’s artifices, she sank one even- 
ing into a deep slumber, rocked soothingly by the softly 
gliding bark. 

Scarcel}^, however, had she closed her eyes, than every one 
in the vessel imagined he saw, in whatever direction he 
turned, a most horrible human head; it rose out of the 
waves, not like that of a person swimming, but perfectly 
perpendicular as if invisibly supported upright on the 
watery surface, and floating along in the same course with 
the bark. Each wanted to point out to the other the 


76 


UNDINE. 


cause of his alarm, but each found the same expression of 
horror depicted on the face of his neighbor, only that his 
hands and eyes were directed to a different point where the 
monster, half-laughing and half-threatening, rose before 
him. When, however, they all wished to make each other 
understand what each saw, and all were crying out: Look 
there! No, there the horrible heads all at one and the 
same time appeared to their view, and the whole river 
around the vessel swarmed with the most hideous appari- 
tions. The universal cry raised at the sight awoke Undine. 
As she opened her eyes, the wild crowd of distorted visages 
disappeared. But Huldbrand was indignant at such un- 
sightly jugglery. He would have burst forth in uncon- 
trolled imprecations had not Undine said to him with a 
humble manner and a softly imploring tone: For God^s 
sake, my husband, we are on the water, do not be angry 
with me now.^^ 

The knight was silent, and sat down absorbed in rev- 
erie. Undine whispered in his ear: "MVould it not be 
better, my love, if we gave up this foolish journey, and 
returned to castle Ringstetten in peace 

But Huldbrand murmured moodily: So I must be a pris- 
oner in my own castle, and only be able to breathe so long 

as the fountain is closed! I would your mad kindred 

Undine lovingly pressed her fair hand upon his lips. He 
paused, pondering in silence over much that Undine had 
before said to him. 

Bertalda had meanwhile given herself up to a variety of 
strange thoughts. She knew a good deal of Undine’s 
origin, and yet not the whole, and the fearful Kuhleborn 
especially had remained to her a terrible but \yholly unre- 
vealed mystery. She had indeed never even heard his 
name. Musing on these strange things, she unclasped, 
scarcely conscious of the act, a gold necklace, which Hiild- 
braud had lately purchased for her of a traveling trader; 


UNDINE. 


77 


half dreamingly she drew it along the surface of the water, 
enjoying the light glimmer it cast upon the evening-tinted 
stream. Suddenly a huge hand was stretched out of the 
Danube, it seized the necklace and vanished with it 
beneath the waters. Bertalda screamed aloud, and a 
scornful laugh resounded from the depths of the stream. 
The knight could now restrain his anger no longer. 
Starting up, he inveighed against the river; he cursed all 
who ventured to interfere with his family and his life, and 
challenged tliern, be they spirits or sirens, to show them- 
selves before his avenging sword. 

Bertalda wept meanwhile for her lost ornament, which 
was so precious to her, and her tears added fuel to the 
flame of the knight’s anger, while Undine held her hand 
over the side of the vessel, dipping it into the water, 
softly murmuring to herself, and only now and then inter- 
rupting her strange mysterious whisper, as she entreated 
her husband: '^My dearly loved one, do not scold me here; 
reprove others if you will, but not me here. You know 
why!” And indeed, he restrained the words of anger that 
were trembling on his tongue. Presently in her wet hand 
which she had been holding under the waves, she brought 
up a beautiful coral necklace of so much brilliancy that 
the eyes of all were dazzled by it. 

Take this,” said she, holding it out kindly to Bertalda; 

I have ordered this to be brought for you as a compensa- 
tion, and don’t be grieved any more, my poor child.” 

But the knight sprang between them. He tore the 
beautiful ornament from Undine’s hand, hurled it again 
into the river, exclaiming in passionate rage: Have you 
then still a connection with them? In the name of all the 
witches, remain among them with your presents, and 
leaves us mortals in peace, you sorceress!” 

Poor Undine gazed at him with fixed but tearful eyes, 
her hand still stretched out, as when she had offered her 


78 


UNDINE. 


beautiful present so lovingly to Bertalda. She then 
began to weep more and more violently, like a dear innocent 
child bitterly afflicted. At last, wearied out she said: Alas, 
sweet friend, alas! farewell ! They shall do you no harm; 
only remain true, so that I may be able to keep them from 
you. I must, alas! go away; I must go hence at this early 
stage of life. Oh woe, woe! what have you done! Oh woe, 
woe 

She vanished over the side of the vessel. Whether she 
plunged into the stream, or flowed away with it, they 
knew not; her disappearance was like both and neither. 
Soon, however, she was completely lost sight of in the 
Danube; only a few little waves kept whispering, as if 
sobbing, round the boat, and they almost seemed to be 
saying: ^^Oh woe, woe! oh remain true! oh woe!^^ 

Huldbrand lay on the deck of the vessel, bathed in hot 
tears, and a deep swoon soon cast its veil of forgetfulness 
over the unhappy man. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HOW IT FARED FURTHER WITH HULDBRAHD. 

Shall we say it is well or ill, that our sorrow is of such 
short duration? I mean that deep sorrow which affects the 
very well-spring of our life, which becomes so one with the 
lost objects of our love that they are no longer lost, and 
which enshrines their image as a sacred treasure, until 
that flnal goal is reached which they have reached before 
us! It is true that many men really maintain these sacred 
memories, but their feeling is no longer that of the first 
deep grief. Other and new images have thronged between; 
we learn at length the transitoriness of all earthly things, 
even to our grief, and, therefore, I must say ‘^Alas, that 
Hur sorrow should be of such short duration!'' 


UNDINE, 


79 


The lord of Ringstetten experienced this: whether for 
his good, we shall hear in the sequel to this history. At 
first he could do nothing but weep, and that as bitterly as 
the poor gentle Undine had wept when he had torn from 
her hand that brilliant ornament with which she had 
wished to set everything to rights. And then he would 
stretch out his hand, as she had done, and would weep 
again, like her. He cherished the secret hope that he 
might at length dissolve in tears; and has not a similar 
hope passed before the mind of many a one of us, with 
painful pleasure, in moments of great affliction? Bertalda 
wept also, and they lived a long while quietly together at 
castle Ringstetten, cherishing Undine^s memory, and 
almost wholly forgetful of their former attachment to each 
other. And, therefore, the good Undine often visited 
Huldbrand in his dreams ; caressing him tenderly and 
kindly, and then going away, weeping silently, so that 
when he awoke he often scarcely knew why his cheeks were 
so wet: whether they had been bathed with her tears, or 
merely with his ovvn? 

These dream-visions became, however, less frequent as 
time passed on, and the grief of the knight was less acute; 
still he would probably have cherished no other wish than 
thus to think calmly of Undine and to talk of her, had 
not the old fisherman appeared one day unexpectedly at 
the castle, and sternly insisted on Bertalda^s returning 
with him as his child. The news of Undine’s disappear- 
ance had reached him, and he had determined on no 
longer allowing Bertalda to reside at the castle with the 
widowed knight. 

For,” said he, whether my daughter love me or no, 
I do not care to know, but her honor is at stake, 
and where that is concerned, nothing else is to be 
thought of.” 

This idea of the old fisherman’s, and the solitude which 


80 


UNDINE, 


threatened to overwhelm the knight in all the halls and 
galleries of the desolate castle, after Bertalda’s departure, 
brought out the feelings that had slumbered till now and 
which had been wholly forgotten in his sorrow for Undine; 
namely, Huldbrand’s affection for the beautiful Bertalda. 
The fisherman had many objections to raise against the 
proposed marriage. Undine had been very dear to the old 
fisherman, and he felt that no one really knew for certain 
whether the dear lost one w^ere actually dead. And if her 
body were truly lying cold and stiff at the bottom 
of the Danube, or had floated away with the current 
into the ocean, even then Bertalda was in some meas- 
ure to blame for her death, and it was unfitting for 
her to step into^the place of the poor supplanted one. Yet 
the fisherman had a strong regard for the knight also; and 
the entreaties of his daughter, who had become much more 
gentle and submissive, and her tears for Undine, turned 
the scale, and he must at length have given his consent, 
for he remained at the castle without objection, and a mes- 
senger was dispatched to Father Heilmann, who had 
united Undine and Huldbrand in happy days gone by, to 
bring him to the castle for the second nuptials of the 
knight. 

The holy man, however, had scarcely read the letter from 
the knight of Ringstetten, than he set out on his journey 
to the castle, with far greater expedition than even the 
messenger had used in going to him. Whenever his breath 
failed in his rapid progress, or his aged limbs ached with 
weariness, he would say to liimself : '' Perhaps the evil may 
yet be prevented; fail not, my tottering frame, till you 
have reached the goal !” And with renewed power he 
would then press forward, and go on and on without rest 
or repose, until late one evening he entered the shady 
court-yard of castle Ringstetten. 

The betrothed pair were sitting side by side under the 


UNBINE, 


81 


trees, and the old fisherman was near them, absorbed in 
thought. The moment they recognized Father Heilmann, 
they sprang up, and pressed round him with warm wel- 
come. But he without making much reply, begged Huld- 
brand to go with him into the castle; and when the latter 
looked astonished, and hesitated to obey the grave sum- 
mons, the reverend father said to him : 

Why should I make any delay in wishing to speak to 
you in private, Herr von Ringstetten? What I have to say 
concerns Bertalda and the fisherman as much as yourself, 
and what a man has to hear, he may prefer to hear as soon 
as possible. Are you then so perfectly certain, Knight 
Huldbrand, that your first wife is really dead? It scarcely 
seems so to me. 1 will not indeed say anything of the 
mysterious condition in which she may be existing, and I 
know, too, nothing of it with certainty. But she was a 
pious and faithful wife, that is beyond all doubt; and for 
a fortnight past she has stood at my bedside at night in 
my dreams, wringing her tender hands in anguish and 
sighing out : ‘ Oh, prevent him, good father! lam still 
living! oh, save his life! save his soulT I did not under- 
stand what this nightly vision signified; when presently 
your messenger came, and I hurried thither, not to unite, 
but to separate, what ought not to be joined together. 
Leave her, Huldbrand! Leave him, Bertalda! He yet 
belongs to another ; and do you not see grief for his lost 
wife still written on his pale cheek? No bridegroom looks 
thus, and a voice tells me that if you do not leave him, 
you will never be happy. 

The three listeners felt in their innermost heart that 
Father Heilmann spoke the truth, but they would not be- 
lieve it. Even the old fisherman was now so infatuated 
that he thought it could not be otherwise than they had 
settled it in their discussions during the last few days. 
They therefore all opposed the warnings of the priest 


82 


UNDINE. 


with a wild and gloomy rashness, until at length the holy 
father quitted the castle with a sad heart, refusing to 
accept even for a single night the shelter offered, or to 
enjoy the refreshments brought him. Huldbrand, how- 
ever, persuaded himself that the priest was full of whims 
and fancies, and with dawn of day he sent for a father 
from the nearest monastery, who, without hesitation, 
promised to perform the ceremony in a few days. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE KHIGHT^S DREAM. 

It was between night and dawn of day that the knight 
was lying on his couch, half - waking, half - sleeping. 
Whenever he was on the point of falling asleep a terror 
seemed to come upon him and scare his rest away, for his 
slumbers wei'e haunted with specters. If he tried, how- 
ever, to rouse himself in good earnest he felt fanned as by 
the wings of a swan, and he heard the soft murmuring of 
Avaters, until soothed by the agreeable delusion, he sunk 
back again into a half-conscious state. At length he must 
have fallen sound asleep, for it seemed to him as if he were 
lifted up upon the fluttering wings of the swans and borne 
by them far over land and sea, while they sang to him 
their sweetest music. The music of the swan! the music 
of the swan!” he kept saying to himself; does it not 
always portend death?” But it had yet another meaning. 
All at once he felt as if he were hovering over the Medi- 
terranean Sea. A swan was singing musically in his ear 
that this was the Mediterranean Sea. And while he was 
looking down upon the waters below they became clear as 
crystal, so that he could see through them to the bottom. 
He was delighted at this, for he could see Undine sitting 
beneath the crystal arch. It is true she was weeping bit- 


UNDINE. 


83 


terly, and looking much sadder tlian in the happy days 
when they had lived together at the castle of Ringstetten, 
especially at their commencement, and afterward also, 
shortly before they had begun their unhappy Danube ex- 
cursion. The knight could not help thinking upon all 
this very fully and deeply, but it did not seem as if Undine 
perceived him. 

Meanwhile Kiihleborn had approached her, and was on 
the point of reproving her for her weeping. But she drew 
herself up, and looked at him with such a noble and com- 
manding air that he almost shrunk back with fear. 

Although I live here beneath the waters,” said she, “1 
have yet brought down my soul with me; and therefore I 
may well weep, although you cannot divine what such 
tears are. They too are blessed, for everything is blessed 
to him in whom a true soul dwells.” 

He shook his head incredulously, and said, after some 
reflection: ‘‘And yet, niece, you are subject to the laws of 
our element, and if he marries again and is unfaithful to 
you, you are in duty bound to take away his life.” 

“ He is a widower to this very hour,” replied Undine, 
“and his sad heart still holds me dear.” 

“ He is, however, at the same time betrothed,” laughed 
Kiihleborn, with scorn; “and let only a few days pass, and 
the priest will have given the nuptial blessing, and then 
you will have to go upon earth to accomplish the death of 
him who has taken another to wife.” 

“ That I cannot do,” laughed Undine in return; “ I 
have sealed up the fountain securely against myself and 
my race.” 

“But suppose he should leave his castle,” said Kiihle- 
born, “or should have the fountain opened again! for he 
thinks little enough of these things.” 

“It is just for that reason,” said Undine, still smiling 
amid her tears, “ it is just for that reason, that he is now 


84 


UNDINE. 


hovering in spirit over the Mediterranean Sea, and is 
dreaming of this conversation of ours as a warning. I 
have intentionally arranged it so.'^ 

Kiihleborn, furious with rage, looked up at the knight, 
threatened, stamped with his feet, and then swift as an 
arrow shot under the waves. It seemed as if he were 
swelling in his fury to the size of a whale. Again the 
swans began to sing, to flap their wings, and to fly. It 
seemed to the knight as if he were soaring away over 
mountains and streams, and that he at length reached the 
castle Ringstetten, and awoke on his couch. 

He did, in reality, awake upon his couch, and his squire 
coming in at that moment informed him that Father 
Heilmann was still lingering in the neighborhood; that he 
had met him the night before in the forest, in a hut which 
he had formed for himself of the branches of trees, and 
covered with moss and brushwood. To the question 
what he was doing here, since he would not give the 
nuptial blessing, he had answered : There are other 
blessings besides those at the nuptial altar, and though I 
have not gone to the wedding, it may be that I shall be at 
another solemn ceremony. We must be ready for all 
things. Besides, marrying and mourning are not so un- 
like, and every one not willfully blinded must see that 
well.^^ 

The knight placed various strange constructions upon 
these words, and upon his dream, but it is very difficult to 
break off a thing which a man has once regarded as cer- 
tain, and so everything remained as it had been arranged. 


UNDINE, 


85 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

HOW THE KNIGHT HULDBRAND IS MARRIED. 

If I were to tell you how the marriage-feast passed at 
castle Kingstetten, it would seem to you as if you saw a 
heap of bright and pleasant things, but a gloomy veil of 
mourning spread over them all, the dark hue of which would 
make the splendor of the whole look less like happiness 
than a mockery of the emptiness of all earthly joys. It 
was not that any spectral apparitions disturbed the festive 
company, for we know that the castle had been secured 
from the mischief of the theatening water-spirits. But 
the knight and the fisherman and all the guests felt as if 
the chief personage were still lacking at the feast, and that 
this chief personage could be none other than the loved and 
gentle Undine. Whenever a door opened, the eyes of all 
were involuntarily turned in that direction, and if it 
was nothing but the butler with new dishes, or the cup- 
bearer with a flask of still richer wine, they would 
look down again sadly, and the flashes of wit and merri- 
ment which had passed to and fro, would be extinguished 
I)y sad remembrances. The bride was the most thought- 
less of all, and therefore the most happy; but even to her 
it sometimes seemed strange that she should be sitting at 
the head of the table, wearing a green wreath and gold- 
embroidered attire, while Undine was lying at the bottom 
of the Danube, a cold and stiff corpse, or floating away 
with the current into the mighty ocean. For, ever since 
her father had spoken of something of the sort, his words 
were ever ringing in her ear, and this day especially they 
were not inclined to give place to other thoughts. 

The company dispersed early in the evening, not broken 
up by the bridegroom himself, but sadly and gloomily by 
the joyless mood of the guests and their forebodings of 


86 


UNDINE, 


evil. Bertalda retired with her maidens, and the knight 
with his attendants; but at this mournful festival there 
was no gay, laughing train of bridesmaids and bridesmen. 

Bertalda wished to 'arouse more cheerful thoughts; she 
ordered a splendid ornament of jewels which Huldbrand 
had given her, together with rich apparel and veils, to be 
spread out before her, in order that from these latter she 
might select the brightest and most beautiful for her morn- 
ing attire. Her attendants were delighted at the oppor- 
tunity of expressing their good wishes to their young mis- 
tress, not failing at the same time to extol the beauty of 
the bride in the most lively terms. They were more and 
more absorbed in these considerations, till Bertalda at 
length, looking in a mirror, said with a sigh: Ah, but 
don’t you see plainly how freckled I am growing here at 
the side of my neck?” 

They looked at her throat, and found the freckles as 
their fair mistress had said, but they called them beauty- 
spots, and mere tiny blemishes only, tending to enhance 
the whiteness of her delicate skin. Bertalda shook her 
head and asserted that a spot was always a defect. 

‘^^And I could remove them,” she sighed at last, ^^only 
the fountain is closed from which I used to have that 
precious and purifying water. Oh! if I had but a flask of 
it to-day!” 

^^Is that all ?” said an alert waiting-maid, laughing, as 
she slipped from the apartment. 

She will not be mad,” exclaimed Bertalda, in a pleased 
and surprised tone, she will not be so mad as to have the 
stone removed from the fountain this very evening!” At 
the same moment they heard the men crossing the court- 
yard, and could see from the window how the officious 
waiting-woman was leading them straight up to the fount- 
ain, and that they were carrying levers and other instru- 
ments on their shoulders. ‘'It is certainly my will,” said 


UNDINE. 


87 


Bertalda, smiling, ‘^if only it does not take too long.” 
And, happy in the sense that a look from her now was 
able to effect what had formerly been so painfully refused 
her, she watched the progress of the work in the moonlit 
castle-court. 

The men raised the enormous stone with an effort; now 
and then indeed one of their number would sigh, as he 
remembered that they were destroying the work of their 
former beloved mistress. But the labor was far lighter 
than they had imagined. It seemed as if a power within 
the spring itself were aiding them in raising the stone. 

'^It is just,” said the workmen to each other in astonish- 
ment, ^^as if the water within had become aspringing 
fountain.” And the stone rose higher and higher, and 
almost without the assistance of the workmen, it rolled 
slowly down upon the pavement with a hollow sound. 
But from the opening of the fountain there rose solemnly 
a white column of water; at first they imagined it had 
really become a springing fountain, till they perceived that 
the rising form was a pale female figure veiled in white. 
She was weeping bitterl}^ raising her hands wailingly 
above her head and wringing them, as she walked with a 
slow and serious step to the castle-building. The servants 
fled from the spring; the bride, pale and stiff with horror, 
stood at the window with her attendants. When the 
figure had now come close beneath her room, it looked 
meaningly up to her, and Bertalda thought she could 
recognize beneath the veil the pale features of Undine. 
But the sorrowing form passed on, sad, reluctant, and 
faltering, as if passing to execution. 

Bertalda screamed out that the knight was to be called, 
but none of her maids ventured from the spot; and even 
the bride herself became mute, as if trembling at her own 
voice. 

While they were still standing fearfully at the window. 


88 


UNDINE. 


motionless as statues, the strange wanderer had reached 
the castle, had passed up the well-known stairs, and 
through the well-known halls, ever in silent tears. Alas! 
how differently had she once wandered through them! 

The knight, partly undressed, had already dismissed his 
attendants, and in a mood of deep dejection he was stand- 
ing before a large mirror ; a taper was burning dimly 
beside him. There was a gentle tap at his door. Undine 
used to tap thus when she wanted playfully to tease him. 
^‘It is all fancy, said he to himself; I must seek my 
nuptial bed.” 

^^So you must, but it must be a cold one!” he heard a 
a tearful voice say from without, and then he saw in the 
mirror his door opening slowly — slowl}^ — and the white 
figure entered, carefully closing it behind her. ‘^They 
have opened the spring,” said she softly, ‘^and now I am 
here, and you must die.” 

He felt in his paralyzed heart that it could not be other- 
wise, but covering his eyes with his hands he said: ‘^Do 
not make me mad with terror in my hour of death. If 
you wear a hideous face behind that veil, do not raise it, 
but take my life, and let me see you not.” 

^^Alas!” replied the figure, will you then not look 
upon me once more? I am as fair as when you wooed me 
on the promontory.” 

^'Oh, if it were so!” sighed Huldbrand, ^"and if I might 
die in your fond embrace!” 

Most gladly, my loved me,” said she; and throwing 
her veil back, her lovely face smiled forth divinely beauti- 
ful. Trembling with love and with the approach of death, 
she kissed him with a holy kiss; but not relaxing her hold 
she pressed him fervently to her, and as if she would weep 
away her soul. Tears rushed into the knight's eyes, and 
seemed to surge through his heaving breast, till at length 
his breathing ceased, and he fell softly back from the 


UNDINE. 


89 


beautiful arms of Undine, upon the pillows of his couch — 
a corpse. 

I have wept him to death/^ said she to some servants 
who met her in the ante-chamber; and, passing through 
the affrighted group, she went slowly out toward the 
fountain. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

HOW THE KN^IGHT HULDBRAND WAS BURIED. 

Father Heilmann" had returned to the castle as soon 
as the death of the lord of Eingstetten had been made 
known in the neighborhood, and he appeared at the very 
same moment that the monk who had married the unfor- 
tunate couple was fleeing from the gates overwhelmed with 
fear and terror. 

It is well,” replied Heilmann, when he was informed 
of this; now my duties begin, and I need no associate.” 

Upon this he began to console the bride, now a widow, 
small result as it produced upon her worldly thoughtless 
mind. The old fisherman, on the other hand, although 
heartily grieved, was far more resigned to the fate which 
had befallen his daughter and son-in-law, and while Ber- 
talda could not refrain from abusing Undine as a murderess 
and sorceress, the old man calmly said: It could not be 
otherwise after all; I see nothing in it but the judgment 
of God, and no one's heart has been more deeply grieved 
by Huldbrand's death than that of her by whom it was 
inflicted — the poor forsaken Undine!” 

At the same time he assisted in arranging the funeral 
solemnities as befitted the rank of the deceased. 

The knight was to be interred in the village church-yard 
which was filled with the graves of his ancestors. And 
this church had been endowed with rich privileges and 


90 


UNDINE, 


gifts both by these ancestors and by himself. His 
shield and helmet lay already on the coffin, to be lowered 
with it into the grave, for Sir Huldbrand, of Ringstetten, 
had died the last of his race; the mourners began their 
sorrowful march, singing requiems under the bright, calm 
canopy of heaven; Father Heilmann walked in advance, 
bearing a high crucifix, and the inconsolable Bertalda fol- 
lowed, supported by her aged father. Suddenly, in the 
midst of the black-robed attendants in the widow^s train, 
a snow-white figure was seen, closely veiled, and wringing 
her hands with fervent sorrow. Those near whom she 
moved felt a secret dread, and retreated either backward 
or to the side, increasing by their movements the alarm of 
the others near to whom the white stranger was now 
advancing, and thus a confusion in the funeral-train was 
well-nigh beginning. Some of the military escort were so 
daring as to address the figure, and to attempt to remove 
it from the procession; but she seemed to vanish from 
under their hands, and yet was immediately seen advancing 
again amid the dismal cortege with slow and solemn step. 
At length, in consequence of the continued shrinking of 
the attendants to the right and to the left, she came close 
behind Bertalda. The figure now moved so slowly that the 
widow did not perceive it, and it walked meekly and 
humbly behind her undisturbed. 

This lasted till they came to the church-yard, where the 
procession formed a circle round the open grave. Then Ber- 
talda saw her unbidden companion, and starting up half iu 
anger and half in terror, she commanded her to leave the 
knighFs last resting-place. The veiled figure, however, 
gently shook her head in refusal, and raised her hands as if in 
humble supplication to Bertalda, deeply agitating her by 
the action, and recalling to her with tears how Undine had 
so kindly wished to give her that coral necklace on tlie 
Danube. Father lieilmaun motioned with his hand and 


UNDINE, 


91 


commanded silence, as they were to pray in mute devotion 
over the body, which they were now covering with the 
earth. Bertalda knelt silently, and all knelt, even the 
grave-diggers among the rest, when they had finished their 
task. But when they rose again, the white stranger had 
vanished; on the spot where she had knelt there gushed 
out of the turf a little silver spring, which rippled and 
murmured away till it had almost entirely encircled the 
knight^s grave; then it ran further and emptied itself into 
a lake which lay by the side of the burial-place. Even to 
this day the inhabitants of the village show the spring, 
and cherish the belief that it is the poor rejected Undine, 
who in this manner still embraces her husband in her 
loving arn^s. 


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THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


A NAERATIVE. 




THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A MILD summer evening was resting on the shores of 
Malaga, awakening the guitar of many a merry singer 
among the ships in the harbor, and in the city houses, and 
in many an ornamental garden villa. Emulating the 
voices of the birds, the melodious tones greeted the re- 
freshing coolness, and floated like perfumed exhalations 
from meadow and water, over the enchanting region. 
Some troops of infantry who were on the shore, and who 
purposed to spend the night there, that they might be 
ready for embarkation early on the following morning, 
forgot amid tho charms of the pleasant even-tide that they 
ought to devote these last few hours on European soil to 
ease and slumber; they began to sing military songs, to 
drink to each other with their flasks filled to the brim with 
the rich wine of Xeres, toasting to the long life of the 
mighty Emperor Charles V, who was now besieging the 
pirate-nest Tunis, and to whose assistance they were about 
to sail. The merry soldiers were not all of one race. Only 
two companies consisted of Spaniards ; the third was 
formed of pure Germans, and now and then among the 
various fellow-combatants, the difference of manners and 
language had given rise to much bantering. Now, how- 
ever, the fellowship of the approaching sea voyage and of 
the glorious perils to be shared, as well as the refreshing 
feeling which the soft southern evening poured over soul 


96 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


and sense, united the band of comrades in perfect and un- 
disturbed harmony. The Germans tried to speak Castilian, 
and the Spaniards to speak German without its occurring 
to any one to make a fuss about the mistakes and confusions 
that happened. They mutually helped each other, think- 
ing of nothing else but the good will of their companions, 
each drawing near to his fellow by means of his own 
language. 

Somewhat apart from the merry tumult, a young Ger- 
man captain. Sir Heimbert of Waldhausen, was reclining 
under a cork-tree, gazing earnestly up at the stars, appar- 
ently in a very dilferent mood to the fresh merry sociability, 
which his comrades knew and loved in him. Presently the 
Spanish captain, Don Fadrique Mendez, approached him; 
he was a youth like the other, and was equally skilled in 
martial exercises, hut he was generally as austere and 
thoughtful as Heimbert was cheerful and gentle. '^Par- 
don, sefior,” began the solemn Spaniard, if I disturb you 
in your meditations. But as I have had the honor of often 
seeing you as a courageous warrior and faithful brother in 
arms in many a hot encounter, 1 would gladly solicit you 
above all others to do me a knightly service, if it does not 
interfere with your own plans and projects for this night. 

Dear sir,^^ returned Heimbert courteously; I have 
certainly an affair of importance to attend to before sun- 
rise, but till midnight I am perfectly free, and ready to 
render you any assistance as a brother in arms.^^ 

Enough, said Fadrique, for at midnight the tones 
must long have ceased with which I shall have taken fare- 
well of the dearest being I have ever known in this my 
native city. But that you may be as fully acquainted 
with the whole affair, as behooves a noble companion, 
listen to me attentively few a few moments. 

Some time before I left Malaga, to join the army of 
our great emperor and to aid in spreading the glory of his 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


97 


arms through Italy, I was devoted, after the fashion of 
young knights, to the service of a beautiful girl in this 
city, named Lucila. She had at that time scarcely reached 
the period which separates childhood from ripe maiden- 
hood, and as I — a boy only just capable of bearing arms — 
offered my homage with a child-like friendly feeling, it was 
also received by my young mistress in a similar child-like 
manner. I marched at length to Italy, and as you your- 
self know, for we have been companions since then, I was 
in many a hot fight, and in many an enchantingly alluring 
region in that luxurious land. Amid all our changes, I 
held unalterably within me the image of my gentle mistress, 
never pausing in the honorable service I had vowed to her, 
although I cannot conceal from you that in so doing it 
was rather to fulfill the word I had pledged at my depart- 
ture, than from any impelling and immoderately ardent 
feeling in my heart. When we returned to my native city 
from our foreign wanderings, a few weeks ago, I found my 
mistress married to a rich and noble knight residing here. 
Fiercer far than love had been, was the jealousy — that 
almost almighty child of heaven and hell — which now 
spurred me on to follow Lucila’s steps, from her home to 
the church, from thence to the house of a friend, from 
thence again to her home or to some noble circle of 
knights and ladies, and all this as unweariedly, and as 
closely as was possible. When I had at length assured 
myself that no other young knight attended her, and that 
she devoted herself entirely to the husband chosen for her 
by her parents, rather than desired by herself, I felt per- 
fectly satisfied, and I should not have troubled you at this 
moment, had not Lucila approached me the day before 
yesterday, and whispered in my ear that I must not pro- 
voke her husband, for he was very passionate and bold ; 
that not the slightest danger threatened her in the matter, 
because he loved and honored her above everything, but 


98 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


that liis wrath would vent itself all the more furiously upon 
me. You can readily understand, my noble comrade, 
that I could not help proving my contempt of all personal 
danger, by following Lucila more closely than ever, and 
singing nightly serenades beneath her flower-decked win- 
dows, till the morning-star began to be reflected in the 
sea. This very night Lucila’s husband sets out at mid- 
night for Madrid, and from that hour I will in every way 
avoid the street in which they live; until then, however, 
as soon as it is sufliciently dark to be suitable for a sere- 
nade, I will have love-romances unceasingly sung before his 
house. It is true I have information that not only he, but 
Lucila’s brothers are ready to enter upon a quarrel with 
me, and it is for this reason, sefior, that I have requested 
yon to bear me company with your good sword in this 
short expedition.” 

Heimbert seized the Spaniard’s hand as a pledge of his 
readiness, saying as he did so: To show you, dear sir, 
how gladly I will do what you desire of me, I will requite 
your confldence with confidence, and will relate a little in- 
cident which occurred to me in this city, and will beg you, 
after midnight, also to render me a small service. My 
story is short, and will not detain us longer than we must 
wait, before the twilight has become deeper and more 
gloomy. 

On the day after we arrived here, I amused myself 
with walking in the beautiful gardens, with which the 
place abounds. I have now been long in these southern 
lands, but I cannot but believe that the dreams which 
transport me nightly back to my German home, are the 
cause for my feeling everything here so strange and aston- 
ishing. At all events, every morning when I wake, I 
wonder anew, as if I were only just arrived. So I was 
walking then, like one infatuated, among the aloe-trees, 
which were scattered among the laurels and oleanders. 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


99 


Suddenly a cry sounded near me, and a slender girl, 
dressed in white, fled into my arms fainting, while her 
companions dispersed past us in every direction. A sol- 
dier can always tolerably soon gather his senses together, 
and I speedily perceived a furious bull was pursuing the 
beautiful maiden. I threw her quickly over a thickly- 
planted hedge, and followed her myself, upon which the 
beast, blind with rage, passed us by, and I have heard no 
more of it since, except that some young knights in an ad- 
jacent court-yard had been making a trial with it previous 
to a bull-flght, and that it was on this account that it had 
broken so furiously through the gardens. 

I was now standing quite alone, with the fainting lady 
in my arms, and she was so wonderfully beautiful to look 
at that I have never in my life felt happier than I then 
did, and also never sadder. At last I laid her down on the 
turf, and sprinkled her angelic brow with water from a 
neighboring little fountain. And so she came to herself 
again, and when she opened her bright and lovely eyes, I 
thought 1 could imagine how the glorifled spirits must feel 
in heaven. She thanked me with graceful and courteous 
words, and called me her knight; but in my state of en- 
chantment I could not utter a syllable, and she must have 
almost thought me dumb. At length my speech returned 
and the prayer at once was breathed forth from my heart, 
that the sweet lady would often again allow me to see her 
in this garden; for that in a few weeks the service of the 
emperor would drive me into the burning land of Africa, 
and that until then she should vouchsafe me the happiness 
of beholding her. She looked at me half smiling, half 
sadly, and said, ‘Yes.'’ And she has kept her word and 
has appeared almost daily, without our having yet spoken 
much to each other. For although she has been some- 
times quite alone, I could never begin any other topic but 
that of the happiness of walking by her side. Often she 


L.efC. 


100 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


has sung to me, and I have sung to her also. When I told 
her yesterday that our departure was so near, her heavenly 
eyes seemed to me suffused with tears. I must also have 
looked sorrowful, for she said to me in a consoling tone: 
'Oh, pious child-like warrior! one may trust you as one 
trusts an angel. After midnight, before the morning 
dawn breaks for your departure, I give you leave to take 
farewell of me in this very spot. If you could, however, 
find a true and discreet comrade to watch the entrance 
from the street, it would be well, for many a soldier may 
be passing at that hour through the city on his way from 
some farewell carouse.^ Providence has now sent me such 
a comrade, and at one o^clock I shall go joyfully to the 
lovely maiden.” 

" I only wish the service on which you require me were 
more rich in danger,” rejoined Fadrique, "so that I might 
better prove to you that I am yours with life and limb. 
But come, noble brother, the hour for my adventure is 
arrived.” 

And wrapped in their mantles, the youths walked hastily 
toward the city; Fadrique carrying his beautiful guitar 
under his arm. 


CHAPTER II. 

The night smelling flowers in Lucila^s window were 
already beginning to emit their refreshing perfume, when 
Fadrique, leaning in the shadow of the angle of an old 
church opposite, began to tune his guitar. Heimbert had 
stationed himself not far from him, behind a pillar, his 
drawn sword under his mantle, and his clear blue eyes, 
like two watching stars, looking calmly and penetrating 
around. Fadrique sang: 


THIiJ TWO CAPTAINS. 


101 


“ Upon a meadow, green with spring, 

A little flower was blossoming. 

With petals red and snowy white; 

To me a youth, my soul’s delight 
Within that blossom lay. 

And I have loved my song to indite 
And flattering homage pay. 

Since then a wanderer I have been. 

And many a bloody strife have seen; 

And now returned, I see 
The little floweret stands no more. 

Upon the meadow as before; 

Transplanted by a gardener’s care 
And hedged by golden trellis there, 

It is denied to me. 

I grudge him not his trellised guard, 

His bolts of iron strongly barred; 

Yet, wandering in the cool night air 
I touch my zither’s string. 

And as afore, her beauties rare. 

Her wondrous graces sing. 

And e’en the gardener shall not dare 
Refuse the praise I bring.” 

That depends, senor,” said a man, stepping close, and 
as he thought unobserved before Fadrique; but the latter 
had already been informed of his approacli by a sign from 
his watchful friend, and he was therefore ready to answer 
with the greater coolness: 

^^If you wish, senor, to commence a suit with my 
guitar, she has, at all events, a tongue of steel, whicli has 
already, on many occasions done her excellent service. 
With whom is it your pleasure to speak, with the guitar or 
the advocate?” 

While the stranger was silent from embarrassment, two 
mantled figures had approached Heimbert and remained 
standing a few steps from him, as if to cut off Fadrique’s 


102 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


flight in case he intended to escape. I believe, dear 
sirs,/^ said Heiinbert, in a courteous tone, we are here on 
the same errand, namely to prevent any intrusion upon the 
conference of yonder knights. At least, as far as I am 
concerned, you may rely upon it that any one who attempts 
to interfere in their affair will receive my dagger in his 
heart. Be of good cheer, therefore, I think we shall both 
do our duty.^’ The two gentlemen bowed courteously and 
were silent. 

The quiet self-possession with which the two soldiers 
carried on the whole affair, was most embarrassing to their 
three adversaries, and they were at a loss to know how they 
should begin the dispute. At last Fadrique again touched 
the strings of his guitar, and was preparing to begin an- 
other song. This mark of contempt, and apparent dis- 
regard of danger and hazard, so enraged Lucila’s 
husband (for it was he who had taken his stand by Don 
Fadrique), that without further delay he drew his sword 
from his sheath, and with a voice of suppressed rage, 
called out: Draw, or I shall stab youP^ 

Very gladly, seflor,"’ replied Fadrique, quietly. You 
need not threaten me; you might as well have said so 
calmly."’ And so saying, he placed his guitar carefully in 
a niche in the church-wall, seized his sword, and bowing 
gracefully to his opponent, the fight began. 

At first the two figures by Heimbert’s side, who were 
Lucila’s brothers, remained quite quiet; but when Fad- 
rique began to get the better of their brother-in-law, they 
appeared as if they intended to take part in the fight. 
Heimbert therefore made his mighty sword gleam in the 
moonlight, and said : Dear sirs, you will not surely 
oblige me to execute that of which I previously assured 
you? I pray you not to compel me to do so; but if it can 
not be otherwise, I must honorabl}'^ keep mv word, you 
may rely upon it.” The two young men remained from 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


103 


that time motionless, surprised both at the decision and at 
the true-hearted friendliness that lay in Ileimbert^s 
words. 

Meanwhile Don Fadrique, although pressing hard upon 
his adversary, had generously avoided wounding him, and 
when at last by a dexterous movement he wrested his 
sword from him, Lucila's husband, surprised at the unex- 
pected advantage and in alarm at being thus disarmed, 
retreated a few steps. But Fadrique threw the weapon 
adroitly into the air, and catching it again near the point 
of the blade, he said, as he gracefully presented the hilt to 
his opponent: Take it, senor, and I hope our affair of 
honor is now settled, as you will grant under these circum- 
stances that I am only here to show that I fear no sword- 
thrust in the world. The bell of the old cathedral is now 
ringing twelve o^’clock, and I give you my word of honor 
as a knight and a soldier that neither is Doha Lucila 
pleased with my attentions, nor am I pleased with paying 
them; from henceforth, and were I to remain a hundred 
years in Malaga, I would not continue to serenade her in 
this spot. So proceed on your journey, and God be with 
you.-’^ He then once more greeted his conquered adver- 
sary with serious and solemn courtesy, and withdrew. 

Heirnbert followed him, after having cordially shaken 
hands with the two youths, saying: dear young sirs, 

do not let it ever again enter your heads to interfere in any 
honorable contest. Do you understand me?” 

He soon overtook his companion, and walked on by his 
side so full of ardent expectation, and with his heart beat- 
ing so joyfully and yet so painfully, that he could not utter 
a single word. Don Fadrique Mendez was also silent; it was 
not till Heirnbert paused, before an ornamented garden 
gate, and pointed cheerfully to the pomegranate boughs, 
richly laden with fruits, which overhung it, saying: ''This 
is the place, dear comrade,” that the Spaniard appeared as 


104 • the two captains. 

if about to ask a question, but turning quickly round, he 
merely said: 

I am pledged to guard this entrance for you till dawn. 
You have my word of honor for it.” So saying, he began 
walking to and fro before the gate, with drawn sword, like 
a sentinel, and Heimbert, trembling with joy, glided 
within the gloomy and aromatic shrubberies. 


CHAPTER III. 

He was not long in seeking the bright star, which he 
indeed felt was destined henceforth to guide the course of 
his whole life. The delicate form approached him not far 
from the entrance; weeping softly, it seemed to him in the 
the light of the full moon which was just rising, and yet 
smiling with such infinite grace that her tears were rather 
like a pearly ornament than a veil of sorrow. In deep and 
infinite joy and sorrow the two lovers wandered silently 
together through the flowery groves, now and then a 
branch waving in the night-air would touch the guitar on 
the lady’s arm, and it would breathe forth a slight murmur 
which blended with the song of the nightingale, or the 
delicate Angers of the girl would tremble over the strings 
and awaken a few scattered chords, while the shooting 
stars seemed as if following the tones of the instrument 
as they died away. 

Oh, truly happy was this night both to the youth and the 
maiden, for no rash wish or impure desire passed even 
fleetingly across their minds. They walked on side by side, 
happy that Providence had allowed them this delight, and 
so little desiring any other blessing that even the transi- 
toriness of that they were now enjoying floated away into 
the background of their thoughts. 

In the middle of the beautiful garden there was a large 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


105 


open lawn, ornamented with statues, and surrounding a 
beautiful and splashing fountain. The two lovers sat down 
on its brink, now gazing at the waters sparkling in the 
moonlight and now delighting in the contemplation of 
each other^s beauty. The maiden touched her guitar, and 
Heimbert, impelled by a feeling scarcely intelligible to 
himself, sang the following words to it: 

“ There is a sweet life linked with mine. 

But I cannot tell its name; 

Oh! would it but to me consign. 

The secret of that life divine, 

That so my lips in whispers sweet 
And gentle songs, might e’en repeat 
All that my heart would fain proclaim.” 

He suddenly paused, and blushed deeply, fearing he had 
been too bold. The lady blushed also, touched her guitar- 
strings with a half-abstracted air, and at last sang as if 
dreamily: 

“ By the spring where moonlight’s gleams 
O’er the sparkling waters pass. 

Who is sitting by the youth, 

Singing on the soft green grass ? 

Shall the maiden tell her name ? 

When though all unknown it be. 

Her heart is glowing with her shame. 

And her cheeks burn anxiously ? 

First, let the youthful knight be named. 

’Tis he, that on that glorious day. 

Fought in Castilia’s proud array; 

’Tis he, the youth of sixteen years. 

At Pavia, who his fortunes tried. 

The Frenchman’s fear, the Spaniard’s pride. 

Heimbert is the hero’s name; 

Victorious in many a fight! 

And beside the valiant knight. 

Sitting on the soft green grass. 

Though her name her lips shall pass, 

, Dona Clara feels no shame.” 


106 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


said Heimberfc, blusbing from another cause 
than before, Ob, Dona Clara, that affair at Pavia was 
nothing but a merry and victorious tournament, and even if 
occasionally since then I have been engaged in a tougher 
contest, how have I ever merited as a reward the over- 
whelming bliss I am now enjoying! Now I know what 
your name is, and I may in future address you by it, 
my angelic Doha Clara, my blessed and beautiful Doha 
Clara! But tell me now, who has given you such a favor- 
able report of my achievements, that I may ever regard 
him with grateful affection?” 

Does the noble Heimbert of Waldhausen suppose,” 
rejoined Clara, ‘^that the noble houses of Spain had 
none of their sons where he stood in the battle? You 
must have surely seen them fighting by your side, and 
must I not have heard of your glories through the lips of 
my own people?” 

The silvery tones of a little bell sounded just then from 
a neighboring palace, and Clara whispered: It is time to 
part. Adieu, my hero!” And she smiled on the youth 
through her gushing tears, and bent toward him, and he 
almost fancied he felt a sweet kiss breathed from her lips. 
When he fully recovered himself, Clara had disappeared, 
the morning clouds were beginning to wear the rosy hue 
of dawn, and Heimbert, with a heaven of lovers proud 
happiness in his heart, returned to his watchful friend at 
the garden gate. 


CHAPTER IV. 

^^Halt!” exclaimed Fadrique, as Heimbert appeared 
from the garden, holding his drawn sword toward him 
ready for attack. 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 107 

Stop, yon are mistaken my good comrade,” said the 
German, smiling; it is I whom you see before you.” 

Do not imagine, Knight Heimbert of Waldhausen,” 
said Fadrique, that I mistake you. But my promise is 
discharged, my hour of guard has been honorably kept, 
and now I beg you without further delay to prepare your- 
self, and fight for your life until hearths blood has ceased 
to flow through these veins.” 

Good heavens!” sighed Heimbert, have often heard 
that in these southern lands there are witches, who deprive 
people of their senses by magic arts and incantations. But 
I have never experienced anything of the sort until to-day. 
Compose yourself, my dear good comrade, and go with me 
back to the shore.” 

Fadrique laughed fiercely, and answered; “Set aside 
your silly delusion, and if you must have everything 
explained to you, w^ord by word, in order to understand it, 
know then, that the lady whom you came to meet in the 
shrubbery of this my garden is Dofla Clara Mendez, my 
only sister. Quick, therefore, and without further pre- 
amble, draw!” 

“God forbid!” exclaimed the German, not touching his 
weapon. “ You shall be my brother-in-law, Fadrique, and 
not my murderer, and still less will I be yours.” Fadrique 
only shook his head indignantly, and advanced toward his 
comrade with measured steps for an encounter. Heimbert, 
however, still remained immovable and said : “'No, 

Fadrique, I cannot now or ever do you harm. For besides 
the love I bear your sister, it must certainly have been you 
who has spoken to her so honorably of my military expedi- 
tions in Italy.” 

“ When I did so,” replied Fadrique, in a fury, “ I was a 
fool. But, dallying coward, out with your sword, or 

Before Fadrique had finished speaking, Heimbert, burn- 
ing with indignation, exclaimed ; “ The devil himself 


108 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


could not bear that!’^ and drawing his sword from the 
scabbard, the two young captains rushed fiercely and reso- 
lutely to the attack. 

Different indeed was this contest to that previously 
fought by Fadrique with Lucila^s husband. The two 
young soldiers well understood their weapons, and strove 
with each other with equal boldness, their swords fiashing 
like rays of light as now this one, now that one, hurled a 
lightning thrust at his adversary, which was with similar 
speed and dexterity turned aside. Firmly they pressed the 
left foot, as if rooted in the ground, while the right 
advanced to the bold onset, and then again they quickly 
retired to the safer attitude of defence. From the self- 
possession and the quiet unremitting anger with which 
both the combatants fought, it was evident that one of the 
two would find his grave under the overhanging branches 
of the orange-tree, which were now tinged with the red 
glow of morning, and this would undoubtedly have been 
the case had not the report of a cannon from the harbor 
sounded through the silence of the twilight. 

The combatants paused, as if at some word of command 
to be obeyed by both, and listened, counting to themselves; 
then, as each uttered the number thirty, a second gun was 
heard. 

‘^It is the signal for immediate embarkation, seflor,” 
said Don Fadrique; we are now in the emperoFs service, 
and all dispute ceases which is not against the foes of 
Charles the Fifth.” 

Eight,” replied Heimbert; ^^but when there is an end 
of Tunis and the whole war, I shall demand satisfaction 
for that ^ dallying coward.’” 

‘‘ And I for that intercourse with my sister,” said 
Fadrique. 

Certainly,” rejoined the other; and, so saying, the 
two captains hurried down to the strand, and arranged the 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


109 


embarkation of their troops; while the sun, rising over the 
sea, shone upon them both in the same vessel. 


CHAPTER V. 

The voyagers had for some time to battle with contrary 
winds, and when at length they came in sight of the 
coasts of Barbary, the darkness of evening had closed 
so deeply over the sea that no pilot in the little squadron 
ventured to ride at anchor on the shallow shore. They 
cruised about on the calm waters, waiting for the morning; 
and the soldiers, full of laudable ambition for combat, 
stood impatiently in crowds on the deck, straining their 
longing eyes to see the theater of their future deeds. 

Meanwhile the heavy firing of besiegers and besieged 
thundered unceasingly from the fortress of Goletta, and as 
the night darkened the scene with massy clouds the 
flames of burning fragments became more visible, and the 
fiery course of the red bullets was perceptible as they 
crossed each other in their path, while their effects in fire 
and devastation were fearful to behold. It was evident 
that the Mussulmans diad been attempting a sally, for a 
sharp tire of musketry burst forth suddenly amid the roar- 
ing of the cannon. The fight was approaching the trenches 
of the Christians, and on board the vessels none were 
agreed whether the besiegers were in danger or not. At 
length they saw that the Turks were driven back into the 
fortress; the Christian army pursued them, and a shout 
was heard from the Spanish camp as of one loud ‘‘ Victory 
and the cry, Goletta was taken 

How the troops on board the vessels — consisting of 
young and courage-tried men — burned with ardor, and 
their hearts beat at the glorious spectacle, need not be 


110 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


detailed to those who carry a brave heart within their own 
bosoms, and to all others any description would be lost. 

Heimbert and Fadrique stood close to each other. ‘‘ I 
do not know,^^ said the latter, speaking to himself, but I 
feel as if to-morrow I must plant my standard upon yonder 
height, which is now lighted up with the red glow of the 
bullets and burning flames in Goletta.’^ 

That is just what I feel!’^ said Heimbert. 

The two angry captains then relapsed into silence, and 
turned indignantly away. 

The longed-for morning at length dawned, the vessels 
approached the shore, and the landing of the troops began, 
while an officer was at once dispatched to the camp to 
announce the arrival of the reinforcements to the mighty 
general Alba. The soldiers were hastily ranged on the 
beach, they put themselves and their weapons in order, and 
were soon standing in battle array, ready for their great 
leader. Clouds of dust rose in the gray twilight, the re- 
turning officer announced the approach of the general, and 
as Alba signifies morning in the Castilian tongue, the 
Spaniards raised a shout of rejoicing at the coincidence, 
as at some favorable omen, for as the knightly train 
approached, the first beams of the rising sun became 
visible. 

The grave and haggard form of the general was seen 
mounted on a tall Andalusian charger of the deepest black. 
Having galloped once up and down the lines, he stopped 
his powerful horse in the middle, and looking along the 
ranks with an air of grave satisfaction, he said: You pass 
muster well. That is well. I like it to be so. It is plain 
to see that you are tried soldiers, in spite of your youth. 
We will first hold a review, and then I will lead you to 
something more agreeable.^’ 

So saying, he dismounted, and walking toward the right 
wing, he began to inspect one troop after another in the 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


111 


closest manner, with the captain of each company at his 
side, that he might receive from him accurate account 
upon the minutest particulars. Sometimes a cannon-ball 
from the fortress would whizz over the heads of the men; 
then Alba would stand still, and cast a keen glance over 
the soldiers before him. But when he saw that not an 
eyelash moved, a smile of satisfaction passed over his severe, 
pale face. 

When he had inspected both divisions, he again mounted 
his horse, and once more galloped into the middle. Then, 
stroking his long beard, he said: You are in good order, 
soldiers, and therefore you shall take your part in this 
glorious day, which is just dawning for our whole Christian 
armada. We will attack Barbarossa, soldiers. Do you 
not already hear the drums and fifes in the camp? Do you 
see him advancing yonder to meet the emperor? That 
side of his position is assigned to you!^^ 

Vivat Carolus Quintus!” resounded through the ranks. 

Alba beckoned the captains to him, and assigned to each 
his duty. He usually mingled German and Spanish troops 
together in order to stimulate the courage of the com- 
batants still higher by emulation. So it happened even 
now, that Heimbert and Fadrique were commanded to 
storm the very same height, which, now gleaming with the 
morning light, they at once recognized as that which had 
shone out so fiercely and full of promise the night before. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Thkice had Fadrique and Heimbert almost forced their 
wav to a rampart in the fortifications, and thrice had they 
been repulsed with their men into the valley below by the 
fierce opposition of the Turks. The Mussulmans shouted 
after the retreating foe, clashed their weapons with the 


112 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


triumph of victory, and with a scornful laugh asked 
whether they would not come up again to give heart and. 
brain to the scimitar and their limbs to the falling 
beams of wood. The two captains, gnashing their teeth 
with fury, arranged their ranks anew; for after three vain 
assaults they had to move closer together to fill the places 
of the slain and the mortally wounded. Meanwhile a 
murmur ran through the Christian army, that a witch was 
fighting among their foes and helping them to conquer. 

Duke Alba rode to the point of attack, and looked 
scrutinizingly at the breach they had made. Not yet 
broken through the enemy herel'^ said he, shaking his 
head. I am surprised. From two such youths and such 
troops, I should have expected it.'’^ 

Do you hear that? Do you hear that?” exclaimed the 
two captains, as they paced along their lines, repeating the 
generaFs words. 

The soldiers shouted loudly, and demanded to be once 
more led against the enemy ; even those who were mortally 
wounded shouted with a last effort: Forward, comrades!” 

The great Alba at once sprang like an arrow from his 
horse, wrested a partisan from the stiff hand of one of the 
slain, and standing in front of the two companies, he 
cried: I will take part in your glory. In the name of 

God and the blessed Virgin, forward, my children!” 

And joyfully they rushed up the hill, every heart beat- 
ing with confidence, while the war-cry was raised triumph- 
antly ; some even began already to shout Victory! vic- 
tory!” and the Mussulmans paused and wavered. Sud- 
denly, like the vision of an avenging angel, a maiden, 
dressed in purple garments embroidered with gold, ap- 
peared in the Turkish ranks, and those who were terrified 
before, again shouted Allah !” calling at the same time, 
‘^Zelinda, Zelinda!” The maiden, however drew a small 
box from under her arm, and opening it, she breathed 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


115 


into it, and hurled it down among the Christian troops. 
And forth from the fatal chest there burst a whole fire of 
rockets, grenades and other fearful messengers of death. 
The startled soldiers paused in their assault. Forward 
cried Alba. Forward cried the two captains; but a 
flaming arrow just then fastened on the duke's plumed hat 
and hissed and crackled round his head, so that the gen- 
eral fell fainting down the height. Then the German and 
Spanish infantry fled uncontrollably from the fearful ascent. 
Again the storm had been repulsed. The Mussulmans 
shouted, and like a fatal star Zelinda's beauty shone in the 
midst of the flying troops. 

When Alba opened his eyes, Heimbert was standing over 
him, with his mantle, arm and face scorched with the fire, 
which he had not only just extinguished on his general's 
head, but by throwing himself over him he had saved him 
from a second body of flame rolled down the height in the 
same direction. The duke was thanking his youthful de- 
liverer, when some soldiers came up, looking for him to 
apprise him that the Saracen power was beginning an at- 
tack on the opposite wing of the army. Without losing a 
word. Alba threw himself on the first horse brought him, 
and galloped away to the spot where the most threatening 
danger summoned him. 

Fadrique stood with his glowing eye fixed on the ram- 
})art, where the brilliant form of Zelinda might be seen, 
with a two-edged spear, ready to be hurled, uplifted by her 
snow-white arm, and raising her voice, now in encouraging 
tones to the Mussulmans in Arabic, and again speaking 
scornfully to the Christians in Spanish. At last Fadrique 
exclaimed: ^^Oh, foolish being! she thinks to daunt me, 
and yet she places herself before me, an alluring and irre- 
sistible war-prize!" 

And as if magic wings had sprung from his shoulders, 
he began to fly up the height with such rapidity that Alba's 


114 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


violent descent seemed but a lazy snail’s ]3ace. Before any 
one was aware, he was already on the height, and wresting 
spear and shield from the maiden, he had seized her in his 
arms, and was attempting to bear her away, while Zelinda 
in anxious despair clung to the palisade with both her 
hands. Her cry for help was unavailing, partly because 
the Turks imagined that the magic power of the maiden 
was annihilated by the almost equally wondrous deed of the 
youth, and partly also because the faithful Heimbert, 
quickly perceiving his comrade’s daring feat, had led both 
troops to a renewed attack, and now stood by his side on 
the height, fighting hand to hand with the defenders. This 
time the fury of the Mussulmans, weakened as they were 
hy superstition and surprise, could avail nothing against 
the heroic advance of the Christian soldiers. The Span- 
iards and Germans speedily broke through the enemy, 
assisted by the watchful squadrons of their army. The 
Mahometans fled with frightful howling, the battle with its 
stream of victory rolled ever on, and the banner of the 
holy German empire and that of the royal house of Castile 
waved victorious over the glorious battle-field before the 
walls of Tunis. 


CIIAPTEK VII. 

In the confusion of the conquering and the conquered, 
Zelinda had wrested herself from Fadrique’s arms, and had 
fled from him with such swiftness that, however much 
love and desire might have given wings to his pursuit, she 
was soon out of sight in a spot so well known to her. All 
the more vehement was the fury of the excited Spaniard 
against the infidel foe. Wherever a little host made a 
fresh stand to oppose the Christians, he would hasten for- 
W/trd with the troops, who ranged themselves round him. 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


115 


resistless as he was, as round a banner of victory, while 
Heimbert ever remained at his side like a faithful shield, 
guarding off many a danger to which the youth, intoxica- 
ted with rage and success, exposed himself without consid- 
eration. The following day they heard of Barbarossa's 
flight from the city, and the victorious troops advanced 
without resistance through the gates of Tunis. Fadrique’s 
and Heimbert^s companies were always together. 

Thick clouds of smoke began to curl through the streets; 
the soldiers were obliged to shake off the glowing and 
dusty flakes from their mantles and richly-plumed helmets, 
where they often rested smoldering. I trust the enemy 
in his despair has not set Are to some maga^ne full of 
powder!” exclaimed the thoughtful Heimbert ; and Fad- 
rique, showing by a sign that he agreed with his surmise, 
hastened on to the spot from whence the smoke proceeded, 
the troops courageously pressing after him. 

The sudden turn of a street brought them in view of a 
magniflcent palace, from the beautifully ornamented 
windows of which the flames were emerging, looking like 
torches of death in their fitful glow, and lighting up the 
splendid building in the hour of its ruin in the grandest 
manner, now illuminating this and now that part of the 
gigantic structure, and then again relapsing into a fearful 
darkness of smoke and vapor. 

And like some faultless statue, the ornament of the 
whole edifice, there stood Zelinda upon a high and giddy 
projection, while the tongues of flame wreathed around 
her from below, calling to her companions in the faith to 
help her in saving the wisdom of centuries, which was 
preserved in this building. The projection on which she 
stood began to totter from the fervent heat raging beneath 
it, and a few stones gave way; Fadrique called with a voice 
full of anguish to the endangered lady, and scarcely had 
she withdrawn her foot from the spot when the stone on 


116 


THE TWO CAPTAIN8. 


which she had been standing broke away and came rattling 
down on the pavement. Zelinda disappeared within the 
burning palace, and Fadrique rushed up its marble 
staircase ; Heimbert, his faithful companion, following 
him. 

Their hasty steps carried them through lofty resounding 
halls; the architecture over their heads was a maze of high 
arches, and one chamber led into another almost like a 
labyrinth. The walls displayed on all sides magnificent 
shelves, in which were to be seen stored rolls of parchment, 
papyrus, and palm-leaf, partly inscribed with the charac- 
ters of long-vanished centuries, and which were now to 
perish themselves. For the fiames were already crackling 
among them, and stretching their serpent-like and fiery 
heads from one case of treasures to another; while some 
Spanish soldiers, barbarous in their fury, and hoping for 
plunder, and finding nothing but inscribed rolls within the 
gorgeous building, passed from disappointment to rage, 
and aided the fiames; the more so, as they regarded the 
inscriptions as the work of evil magicians. Fadrique fiew 
as in a dream through the strange half-consumed halls, 
ever calling Zelinda! thinking and regarding nothing but 
her enchanting beauty. Long did Heimbert remain at 
his side, until at length they both reached a cedar stair- 
case leading to an upper story; here Fadrique paused to 
listen, and exclaiming: ^^She is speaking up there! she is 
speaking loud! she needs my help!” he dashed up the 
already burning steps. Heimbert hesitated a moment; he 
saw the staircase already tottering, and he thought to give 
a warning cry to his companion; but at the same moment 
the light ornamental ascent gave way and burst into 
fiames. He could just see Fadrique clinging above to a 
brass grating, and swinging himself up to it, but all means 
of following him were destroyed. Quickly recollecting 
himself, Heimbert lost no time in idly gazing, but hastened 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 117 

through the adjacent halls in search of another flight of 
steps, which would lead him to his vanished friend. 

Meanwhile Fadrique, following the enchanting voice, 
had reached a gallery in the midst of which, the floor 
having fallen in, there was a fearful abyss of flames, 
though the pillars on each side were still standing. Op- 
posite to him the youth perceived the longed-for maiden, 
clinging with one hand to a pillar, while with the other 
she was threatening back some Spanish soldiers, who 
seemed ready at any moment to seize her, and her delicate 
foot was already hovering over the edge of the glowing 
ruins. For Fadrique to go to her was impossible; the 
breadth of the opening rendered even a desperate leap un- 
availing. Trembling lest his call might make the maiden 
precipitate herself into the abyss, either in terror or de- 
spairing anger, he only softly raised his voice and whis- 
pered as with a breath over the flaming gulf: ^^Oh, 
Zelinda, Zelinda! do not give way to such frightful 
thoughts! Your preserver is here!*' The maiden turned 
her queenly head, and when Fadrique saw her calm and 
composed demeanor, he cried to the soldiers on the other 
side with all the thunder of his warrior's voice: ‘^Back, ye 
insolent plunderers! Whoever advances but one step to 
the lady shall feel the vengeance of my arm!" 

They started and seemed on the point of withdrawing, 
when one of their number said : ^^The knight cannot 
touch us, the gulf between us is too broad for that. And 
as for the lady's throwing herself down — it almost looks as 
if the young knight were her lover, and whoever has a 
lover is not likely to be so hasty about throwing herself 
down." All laughed at this, and again advanced. Zelinda 
tottered at the edge of the abyss. But with the courage 
of a lion Fadrique had torn his target from his arm, and. 
hurling it with his right hand, he flung it at the soldiers 
with such a sure aim that the rash leader, struck on the 


118 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


head, fell senseless to the ground! The rest again stood 
still. 

‘^Away with yon!” cried Fadrique, authoritatively, 

or my dagger shall strike the next as surely, and then I 
swear I will never rest till I have found out your whole 
gang and appeased my rage.” The dagger gleamed 
in the youth's hand, but yet more fearfully gleamed the 
fury in his eyes, and the soldiers fled. Then Zelinda 
bowed gratefully to her preserver, took up a roll of palm- 
leaves which lay at her feet, and which must have pre- 
viously slipped from her hand, and then vanished hastily 
through a side-door of the gallery. Henceforth Fadrique 
sought her in vain in the burning palace. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The great Alba held a council with his chief officers in 
an open place in the middle of the conquered city, and, by 
means of interpreters, sent question after question to the 
Turkish prisoners as to the fate of the beautiful woman 
who had been seen animating them on the ramparts, and 
who was certainly the most exquisite enchantress that had 
ever visited the earth. Nothing very distinct was to be 
gained from the answers, for although the interrogated all 
knew of the beautiful Zelinda as a noble lady versed in 
magic lore, and acknowledged by the whole people, they 
were utterly unable to state from whence she had come to 
Tunis and whither she had now fled. When at last they 
began to threaten the prisoners as obstinate, an old Der- 
vish, hitherto unnoticed, pressed forward, and said with a 
gloomy smile: Whoever has a desire to seek the lady, may 
set out when he chooses. I will conceal nothing from him 
of what I know of her direction, and I know something. 
But I must first of all receive the promise that I shall not 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


119 


be compelled to accompany as guide. My lips otherwise 
will remain sealed forever, and you may do with me what 
you will. '^ 

He looked like one who intended to keep his word, and 
Alba, pleased with the firmness of the man, which harmo- 
nized well with his own mind, gave him the desired assur- 
ance, and the Dervish began his relation. He was once, 
he said, wandering in the almost infinite desert of Sahara, 
impelled perhaps by rash curiosity, perhaps by higher mo- 
tives; he had lost his way there, and had at last, wearied 
to death, reached one of those fertile islands of that sea of 
sand which are called oases. Then followed, sparkling with 
oriental vivacity, a description of the wonderful things seen 
there, now filling the hearts of his hearers with sweet long- 
ing, and then again making their hair stand on end with 
horror, though from the strange pronunciation of the 
speaker, and the flowing rapidity of his words, the half was 
scarcely understood. The end of all this at length was, 
that Zelinda dwelt on that oasis, in the midst of the path- 
less sand-plains of the desert, surrounded by magic horrors; 
and also, as the Dervish knew for certain, that she had 
left about half an hour ago on her way thither. The 
almost contemptuous words with which he concluded his 
narration plainly showed that he desired nothing more 
earnestly than to seduce some Christians to undertake a 
journey which must terminate inevitably in their destruc- 
tion. At the same time he added a solemn oath that every- 
thing was truly as he had stated it, and he did this 
in a firm and grave manner, as a man who knows that he 
is speaking the most indubitable truth. Surprised and 
thoughtful, the circle of officers held their council round 
him. 

Then Heimbert stepped forward with an air as if of re- 
quest; he had just received a summons to leave the burn- 
ing palace, where he had been seeking his friend, and had 


120 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


been appointed to the place of council because it was neces- 
sary to arrange the troops here in readiness for any possi- 
ble rising in the conquered city. What do you wish, my 
young hero ?” said Alba, recognizing him as he ap- 
peared. know your smiling blooming countenance 

well. You were but lately sheltering me like a protecting 
angel. I am so sure that you make no request but what is 
honorable and knightly, that anything you may possibly 
desire is granted beforehand.” 

My great duke,” replied Heimbert, with cheeks glow- 
ing with pleasure, ^^if I may then venture to ask a favor, 
will you grant me permission to follow the beautiful Ze- 
linda at once in the direction which this wonderful Der- 
vish has pointed out?” 

The great general bowed in assent, and added : So 
noble an adventure could not be consigned to a more noble 
knight!” 

'‘I do not know that!” said an angry voice from the 
throng. But well do I know that to me above all others 
this adventure belongs, even were it assigned as a reward 
for the capture of Tunis. For who was the first on the 
height and within the city?” 

^^That was Don Fadrique Mendez,” said Heimbert, 
taking the speaker by the hand, and leading him before 
the general. ^'If I now for his sake must forfeit my 
promised reward, I must patiently submit; for he has ren- 
dered better service than I have done to the emperor and 
the army.” 

"^Neither of you shall forfeit his reward,” said the 
great Alba. Each has permission from this moment to 
seek the maiden in whatever way it seems to him most 
advisable.” 

And swift as lightning, the two young captains quitted 
the circle of officers in opposite directions. 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


121 


CHAPTER IX. 

A SEA of sand, stretching out in the distant horizon, 
without one object to mark its extensive surface, white 
and desolate in its vastness — such is the scene which pro- 
claims the fearful desert of Sahara to the eye of the wan- 
derer who has lost himself in these frightful regions. In 
this also it resembles the sea, that it casts up waves, and 
often a misty vapor hangs over its surface. But there is 
not the soft play of waves which unite all the coasts 
of the earth, each wave as it rolls in bringing a message 
from the remotest and fairest island kingdoms, and again 
rolling back, as it were, with an answer, in a sort of love- 
flowing dance. Xo ; there is here only the melancholy 
sporting of the hot wind with faithless dust, which ever 
falls back again into its joyless basin, and never reaches 
the rest of the solid land with its happy human dwellings. 
There is here none of the sweet cool sea-breeze in which 
kindly fairies seem carrying on their graceful sport, form- 
ing blooming gardens and pillared palaces — there is only 
a suffocating vapor, rebelliously given back to the glowing 
sun from the unfruitful sands. 

Hither the two youths arrived at the same time, and 
paused, gazing with dismay at the pathless chaos before 
them. Zelinda’s track, which was not easily hidden or 
lost, had hitherto obliged them almost always to remain 
together — dissatisfied as Fadrique was at the circum- 
stance, and angry as were the glances he cast at his un- 
welcome companion. Each had hoped to overtake Zelinda 
before she had reached the desert, feeling how almost im- 
possible it would be to find her once she had entered it. 
That hope was now at an end, and although in answer to 
the inquiries they made in the Barbary villages on the 
frontier, they heard that a wanderer going southward in 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


122 

the desert, and guiding his course by the stars, would, ac- 
cording to tradition, arrive at length at a wonderfully fertile 
oasis, the abode of a divinely beautiful enchantress, yet 
everything appeared highly uncertain and dispiriting, and 
was rendered still more so by the avalanches of dust before 
the travelers’ view. 

The youths looked sadly at the prospect before them, 
and their horses snorted and started back at the horrible 
plain, as though it were some insidious quicksand, and 
even the riders themselves were seized with doubt and dis- 
may. Suddenly they sprung from their saddles, as at 
some word of command, unbridled their horses, loosened 
their girths, and turned them loose on the desert, that 
they might find their way back to some happier dwelling- 
place. Then, taking some provision from their saddle- 
bags, they placed it on their shoulders, and casting aside 
their heavy riding-boots, they plunged like two courageous 
swimmers into the trackless waste. 


CHAPTER X. 

With no other guide than the sun by day, and by 
night the host of stars, the two captains soon lost sight of 
each other, and all the sooner as Fadrique avoided inten- 
tionally the object of his aversion. Heimbert, on the 
other hand, had no thought but the attainment of his aim, 
and full of joyful confidence in God’s assistance he pur- 
sued his course in a southerly direction. 

Many nights and many days had passed, when one even- 
ing, as the twilight was coming on, -Heimbert was stand- 
ing alone in the endless desert, unable to descry a single 
object all round on which his eye could rest. His light 
fiask was empty, and the evening brought with it, instead 
of the hoped-for coolness, a suffocating whirlwind of sand, 


TEE TWO CAPTAINS, 


123 


so that the exhausted wanderer was obliged to press his 
burning face to the burning soil in order to escape in some 
measure the fatal cloud. Now and then he heard some- 
thing passing him, or rustling over him as with the sound 
of a sweeping mantle, and he would raise himself in anx- 
ious haste; but he only saw what he had already too often 
seen in the daytime — the wild beasts of the wilderness 
roaming at liberty through the desert waste. Sometimes 
it was an ugly camel, then it was a long-necked and dis- 
proportioned giraffe, and then again a long-legged ostrich 
hastening away with its wings outspread. They all ap- 
peared to scorn him, and he had already taken his resolve 
to open his eyes no more, and to give himself up to his 
fate, without allowing these horrible and strange creatures 
to disturb his mind in the hour of death. 

Presently it seemed to him as if he heard the hoofs and 
neighing of a horse, and suddenly sometning halted close 
beside him, and he thought he caught the sound of a 
man’s voice. Half unwillingly, he could not resist raising 
himself wearily, and he saw before him a rider in an 
Arab’s dress mounted on a slender Arabian horse. Over- 
come with joy at finding himself within reach of human 
help, he exclaimed: ^MVelcome, oh man, in this fearful 
solitude! If thou canst, succor me, thy fellow-man, who 
must otherwise perish with thirst!” Then remembering 
that the tones of his dear German mother-tongue were not 
intelligible in this joyless region, he repeated the same 
words in the mixed dialect, generally called the Lingua 
Romana, universally used by heathens, Mohammedans, 
and Christians in those parts of the world where they have 
most intercourse with each other. 

The Arab still remained silent, and looked as if scorn- 
fully laughing at his strange discovery. At length he 
replied in the same dialect: “1 was also in Barbarossa’s 
fight, and if, sir knight, our overthrow bitterly enraged 


124 ' 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


me then, I find no small compensation for it in the fact of 
seeing one of the conquerors lying so pitifully before me.” 

Pitifully!” exclaimed Heimbert, angrily, and his 
wounded sense of honor giving him back for a moment all 
his strength, he seized his sword and stood ready for an 
encounter. 

Oho!” laughed the Arab, "'does the Christian viper 
still hiss so strongly? Then it only behoves me to put 
spurs to my horse and leave thee to perish here, thou lost 
creeping worm!” 

"Ride to the devil, thou dog of a heathen!” retorted 
Heimbert; "rather than entreat a crumb of thee, I will 
die here, unless the good God sends me manna in the 
wilderness.” 

And the Arab spurred forward his swift steed, and 
galloped away a couple of hundred paces, laughing with 
scorn. Then he paused, and looking round to Heimbert, 
he trotted back and said: " Thou seemest too good, me- 
thinks, to perish here of hunger and thirst. Beware! my 
good saber shall touch thee.” 

Heimbert, who had again stretched himself hopelessly 
on the burning sand, was quickly roused to his feet by 
these words, and seized his sword; and sudden as was the 
spring with wdiich the Arab’s horse fiew toward him, the 
stout German warrior stood ready to parry the blow, and 
the thrust which the Arab aimed at him in the Mohamme- 
dan manner, he warded off with certainty and skill. 

Again and again the Arab sprung similarly here and 
there, vainly hoping to give his antagonist a death-blow. 
At last, overcome by impatience, he approached so boldly 
that Heimbert, warding off the threatening weapon, had 
time to seize the Arab by the girdle and drag him from 
the fast-galloping horse. The violence of the movement 
threw Heimbert also on the ground, but he lay above his 
opponent, and holding close before his eyes a dagger. 


TEE TWO CAPTAINS. 


125 


which he had dexterously drawn from his girdle, he ex- 
claimed: Wilt thou have mercy or death 

The Arab trembling, cast down his eyes before the 
gleaming and murderous weapon, and said: ''Show mercy 
to me, mighty warrior; I surrender to thee.” Heimbert 
then ordered him to throw away the saber he still held in 
his right hand. He did so, and both combatants rose, and 
again sunk down upon the sand, for the victor was far 
more weary than the vanquished. 

The Arab’s good horse meanwhile had trotted toward 
them, according to the habit of those noble animals who 
never forsake their fallen master. It now stood behind 
the two men, stretching out its long slender neck affec- 
tionately toward them. 

"Arab,” said Heimbert, with exhausted voice, "take 
from thy horse what provision thou hast with thee, and 
place it before me.” 

The vanquished man humbly did as he was commanded, 
now just as much submitting to the will of the conqueror 
as he had before exhibited his animosity in anger and 
revenge. After a few draughts of palm-wine from the 
skin, Heimbert looked at the youth under a new aspect; 
he then partook of some fruits, drank more of the palm- 
wine, and at length said: "You are going to ride still 
further to-night, young man?” 

" Yes, indeed,” replied the Arab, sadly; " on a distant 
oasis there dwells my aged father and my blooming bride. 
Now — even if you set me at full liberty — I must perish in 
the heat of this barren desert, for want of sustenance, 
before I can reach my lovely home.” 

"Is it, perhaps,” asked Heimbert, " the oasis on which 
the mighty enchantress, Zelinda, dwells?” 

"Allah, protect me!” cried the Arab, clasping his hands. 
" Zelinda’s wondrous isle offers no hospitable shelter to 
any but magicians. It lies far away in the scorching 
south, while our friendly oasis is toward the cooler west.” 


126 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


I only asked in case we might be traveling compan- 
ions,” said Heimbert, courteously. that cannot be, 

we must certainly divide the provisions; for I would not 
have so brave a warrior as you perish with hunger and 
thirst.” 

So saying, the young captain began to arrange the 
provisions in two portions, placing the larger on his left, 
and the smaller at his right; he then desired the Arab to 
take the former, and added to his astonished companion: 

See, good sir, I have either not much further to travel, 
or I shall perish in the desert; I feel that it will be so. 
Besides, I cannot carry half so much on foot as you can on 
horseback.” 

Knight! victorious knight!” cried the amazed Mussul- 
man, ^‘am I then to keep my horse?” 

It were a sin and shame indeed,” said Heimbert, 
smiling, to separate such a faithful steed from such a 
skillful rider. Ride on in God’s name, and get safely to 
your people.” 

He then helped him to mount, and the Arab was on the 
point of uttering a few words of gratitude, when he sud- 
denly exclaimed, ^^The magic maiden!’ and swift as the 
wind he flew over the dusty plain. Heimbert, however, 
turning round, saw close beside him in the now bright 
moonlight a shining flgure, which he at once perceived to 
be Zelinda. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The maiden looked flxedly at the 3^oung soldier, and 
seemed considering with what words to address him, while 
he, after his long search and now unexpected success, was 
equally at a loss. At last she said in Spanish : Thou 
wonderful enigma, I have been witness of all that has 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


127 


passed between thee and the Arab; and these affairs con- 
fuse iny head like a whirlwind. Speak therefore plainly, 
that I may know whether thou art a madman or an 
angel 

am neither, dear lady.'’' replied Heimbert, with his 
wonted friendliness. I am only a poor wanderer, who 
has just been putting into practice one of the commands 
of his Master, Jesus Christ." 

“ Sit down," said Zelinda, and tell me of thy Master; 
he must be himself unprecedented to have such a servant. 
The night is cool and still, and at my side thou hast no 
cause to fear the dangers of the desert." 

Lady," replied Heimbert, smiling, I am not of a fear- 
ful nature, and when I am speaking of my dear Saviour, 
my mind is perfectly free from all alarm." 

Thus saying, they both sat down on the now cooled 
sand, and began a wondrous conversation, while the full 
moon shone upon them from the deep-blue heavens above 
like a magic lamp. 

Heimbert's words, full of divine love, truth and sim- 
plicity, sank like soft sunbeams, gently and surely, into 
Zelinda's heart, driving away the mysterious magic power 
which dwelt there, and wrestling for the dominion of the 
noble territory of her soul. When morning began to dawn, 
she said: ‘‘Thou wouldst not be called an angel last even- 
ing, but thou art truly one. For what else are angels than 
messengers of the Most High God ?" 

“ In that sense," rejoined Heimbert, “I am well satis- 
fied with the name, for I certainly hope that I am the 
bearer of my Master’s message. Yes, if He bestows on me 
further grace and strength, it may even be that you also 
may become my companion in the pious work." 

“ It is not impossible," said Zelinda thoughtfully. “ Thou 
must, however, come with me to my island, and there thou 
shalt be regaled as is befitting such an ambassador, far 


128 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


better than here on the desolate sand, with the miserable 
palm-wine that thou hast so laboriously obtained/^ 

Pardon me,” replied Heimbert; it is difficult to me 
to refuse the request of a lady, but on this occasion it can 
not be otherwise. In your island many glorious things 
have been conjured together by your forbidden art, and 
mswiy lovely forms which tlie good God has created, have 
been transformed. These might dazzle my senses, and at 
last delude them. If you will, tlierefore, hear the best and 
purest things which I can relate to you, you must rather 
come out to me on this desert sand. The palm-wine and the 
dates of the Arab will suffice for me for many a day to 
come.” 

You would do better to come with me,” said Zelinda, 
shaking her head with somewhat of a scornful smile. 

You were certainly neither born nor brought up to be a 
hermit, and there is nothing on my oasis so destructive as 
you imagine. What is there more than shrubs and flowers 
and beasts gathered together from different quarters of the 
world, perhaps a little strangely interwoven; each, that is 
to say, partaking of the nature of the other, in a similar 
manner to that which you must have seen in our Arabian 
carving! A moving flower, a bird growing on a branch, a 
fountain gleaming with flery sparks, a singing twig — these 
are truly no hateful things?” 

^^He must avoid temptation who does not wish to be 
overcome by it,” said Heimbert, very gravely. I am for 
the desert. Will it please you to come out to visit me 
again ?” 

Zelinda looked down somewhat displeased. Then sud- 
denly bending her head still lower, she replied : ^^Yes; 
toward evening I shall be here again.” And turning 
away, she at once disappeared in the rising whirlwind of 
the desert. 


THE TWO CAPTAmS. 


129 


CHAPTER XII. 

With the evening twiliglit the lovely lady returned, and 
spent the night in converse with the pious youth, leav- 
ing him in the morning with her mind more humble, 
pure and devout ; and thus matters went on for many 
days. 

‘^Thy palm -wine and thy dates must be coming to 
an end,'^ said Zelinda, one evening as she presented 
the youth with a flask of rich wine and some costly 
fruits. 

He, however, gently put aside the gift, and said: 

Noble lady, I would accept your gifts gladly, but I fear 
some of your magic arts may, perhaps, cleave to it. Or 
could you assure me to the contrary by Him whom you are 
now beginning to know?” 

Zelinda cast down her eyes in silent confusion, and took 
her presents back. On the following evening, however, 
she brought similar gifts, and smiling confldently gave 
the desired assurance. Heimbert then partook of them 
without hesitation, and from henceforth the disciple care- 
fully provided for the sustenance of her teacher in the 
wilderness. 

And so, as the blessed knowledge of the truth sank more 
and more deeply into Zelinda’s soul, so that she was often 
sitting till dawn before the youth, with cheeks glowing, 
and hair dishevelled, her eyes beaming with delight, and 
her hands folded, unable to withdraw herself from his 
words; he, on his part, endeavored to make her sensible at 
all times, that it was only Fadrique^s love for her which 
had urged him, his friend, into this fatal desert, and that 
it was this same love that had thus become the means for 
the attainment of her highest spiritual good. She still 
well remembered the handsome and terrible captain, who 


130 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


luid stormed the height that he might clasp her in his 
arms; and she related to her friend how the same hero had 
afterward saved her in the burning library. Heimbert, 
too, had many pleasant things to tell of Fadrique, of his 
high knightly courage, of his grave and noble manners, 
and of his love to Zelinda, which in the night after the 
battle of Tunis was no longer concealed within his passion- 
ate breast, but was betrayed to the young German in a 
thousand unconscious expressions between sleeping and 
waking. Divine truth and the image of her loving hero 
both at once sunk deep within Zelinda’s heart, and struck 
root there with tender but indestructible power. Heim- 
bert’s presence, and the almost adoring admiration with 
which his pupil regarded him, did not disturb these feel- 
ings, for from the first moment his appearance had some- 
thing in it so pure and heavenly that no thoughts of 
earthly love intruded. When Heimbert was alone he 
would often smile happily within himself, saying in his 
own beloved German tongue : It is, indeed, delightful 

that I am now able consciously to do the same service for 
Fadrique as he did for me, unconsciously, with his angelic 
sister. And then he would sing some German song of 
Clara’s grace and beauty, the sound of which rang with 
strange sweetness through the desert, while it happily 
beguiled his solitary hours. 

Once when Zelinda came in the evening twilight, grace- 
fully bearing on her beautiful head a basket of provisions 
for Heimbert, he smiled at her, and shook his head, 
saying: ^^It is inconceivable to me, sweet maiden, why 
you ever gave yourself the trouble of coming to me out 
here in the desert. You can indeed no longer find pleas- 
ure in magic arts, since the spirit of truth and love dwells 
within you. If you would only transform the oasis into 
the natural form in which the good God created it, I 
would go there with you, and we should have far more 
time for holy converse/^ 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


131 


Sir/^ replied Zelinda, ^^you speak truly. I too have 
thought for some days of doings so, and the matter would 
have been already set on foot, but a strange visitor fetters 
my power. The Dervish whom you saw in Tunis is with 
me, and as in former times we have practiced many magic 
tricks with each other, he would like again to play the 
old game. He perceives the change in me, and on that 
account urges me all the more vehemently and danger- 
ously.^^ 

'^He must either be driven away or converted,” said 
Heimbert, girding on his shoulder-belt more firmly, and 
taking up his shield from the ground. Have the good- 
ness, dear maiden,” he continued, to lead me to your 
enchanted isle.” 

You avoided it so before,” said the astonished Zelinda, 
and it is still unchanged in its fantastic form.” 

Formerly it would have been only inconsiderate curi- 
osity to have ventured there,” replied Heimbert. ‘‘You 
came too out here to me, and that was better for us both. 
But now the old enemy might lay snares for the ruin of 
all that the Lord has been working in you, and so it is a 
knightly duty to go. In God's name, then, to the work!” 

And they hastened forward together through the ever- 
increasing darkness of the plain, on their way to the 
blooming island. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A CHARMING breeze began to cool the heated brows of 
the travelers; and the twinkling starlight revealed in the 
distance a grove waving to and fro with the gentle motion 
of the air. Heimbert cast his eyes to the ground and 
said: “Go before me, sweet maiden, and guide my path 
to the spot where I shall find this threatening Dervish. I 


132 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


do not wish unnecessarily to see anything of these ensnar- 
ing enchantments/^ 

Zelinda did as he desired, and the relation of the two 
was for a moment changed: the maiden had become the 
guide, and Heimbert, full of confidence, allowed himself 
to be led upon the unknown path. Branches were even 
now touching his cheeks, half-caressingly and playfully; 
wonderful birds, growing out of bushes, sang joyful songs; 
over the velvet turf, upon which Heimbert ever kept his 
eyes fixed, there glided gleaming serpents, of green and 
gold, with little golden crowns, and brilliant stones glit- 
tered on the mossy carpet. When the serpents touched the 
jewels, they gave forth a silvery sound. But Heimbert 
let the serpents creep and the gems sparkle, without 
troubling himself about them, intent alone on following 
the footsteps of his guide. 

We are thereT^ said she, with suppressed voice; and 
looking up, he saw a shining grotto of shells, within 
which he perceived a man asleep clad in golden scale-armor 
of the old Numidian fashion. 

Is that also a phantom, there yonder, in the golden 
scales?’^ inquired Heimbert, smiling; but Zelinda looked 
very grave, and replied: 

^‘Oh, no! that is the Dervish himself, and his having 
put on this coat of mail, which has been rendered invulner- 
able by dragon’s blood, is a proof that, by his magic, he 
has become aware of our intention.” 

What does that signify?” said Heimbert. He would 
have to know it at last.” And he began at once to call 
out with a cheerful voice: ^'Wake up, old sir, wake up! 
Here is an acquaintance of yours, who has matters upon 
which he must speak to you.” 

And as the Dervish opened his large rolling eyes, every- 
thing in the magic grove began to move, the water began 
to dance and the branches to intertwine in wild emulation, 


TEE TWO CAPTAINS. 


133 


and at the same time, the precious stones and the shells 
and corals emitted strange and confusing melodies. 

^‘Roll and turn, thunder and play, as you like!’" ex- 
claimed Heimbert, looking fixedly at the maze around 
him; ‘^you shall not divert me from my own good path, 
and Almighty God has given me a good far-sounding 
soldier"s. voice, which can make itself heard above all this 
tumult."" Then, turning to the Dervish, he said : “It 
appears, old man, that you already know everything which 
has passed between Zelinda and me. In case, however, 
that it is not so, I will tell you briefiy that she is already 
as good as a Christian and that she is the betrothed of a 
noble Spanish knight. Place nothing in the way of her 
good intention; I advise you for your own sake. But still 
better for your own sake would it be, if you would become 
a Christian yourself. Discuss the matter with me, and 
first bid all this mad devilish show to cease, for our religion, 
dear sir, speaks of far too tender and divine things to be 
talked of with violence or with the loud voice necessary on 
the field of war."" 

But the Dervish, burning with hatred to the Christians, 
had not waited to hear the knight"s last words, when he 
rushed at him with his drawn scimitar. Heimbert merely 
parried his thrust, saying: “ Take care of yourself, sir! I 
have heard something of your weapons being charmed, but 
that will avail but little before my sword. It has been 
consecrated in holy places."" 

The Dervish sprang wildly back before the sword, but 
equally wildly did he spring to the other side of his adver- 
sary, who only with difficulty caught the terrible cuts of 
his weapon upon his shield. Like a gold-scaled dragon 
the Mohammedan swung himself round his antagonist, 
with an agility which, with his long fiowing white beard, 
was ghostly and horrible to witness. Heimbert was pre- 
pared to meet him on all sides, ever keeping a watchful 


134 


THE TWO GAPTAIHS, 


eye for some opening in the scales made by the violence of 
his movements. At last it happened as he desired; between 
the arm and breast on the left side, the dark garments of 
the Dervish became visible, and quick as lightning the 
German made a deadly thrust. The old man exclaimed 
aloud: Allah! Allah and fell forward, fearful even in 

his fall, a senseless corpse. 

I pity him \” sighed Heimbert, leaning on his sword 
and looking down on his fallen foe. He has fought 
nobly, and even in death he called upon his Allah, whom 
he looked upon as the true God. He must not 
lack honorable burial.” He then dug a grave with the 
broad scimitar of his adversary, laid the corpse within it, 
covered it over with turf, and knelt on the spot in silent, 
heart- felt prayer for the soul of the dej)arted. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Heimbert rose from his pious duty, and his first glance 
fell on Zelinda, who stood smiling by his side, and his 
second, upon the wholly changed scene around. The 
rocky cavern and grotto had disappeared, the distorted 
forms of trees and beasts, half terrible and half charming 
as they were, had vanished also; a gentle grassy hill 
sloped down on every side of the point where he stood, to- 
ward the sandy waste; springs gushed out here and there 
in refreshing beauty; date-trees bent over the little paths; 
everything, indeed in the now opening day was full of 
sweet and simple peace. 

Thank God!” said Heimbert, turning to his compan- 
ion, ^^you can now surely feel how infinitely more lovely, 
grand and beautiful is everything as our dear Father has 
created it, than it can be when transformed by the highest 
human art. The Heavenly Gardener has indeed permit- 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


135 


ted ns. His beloved children, in His abundant mercy, to 
help forward His gracious works, that we may thus become 
happier and betterj but we must take care that we change 
nothing to suit our own rash willful fancies; else it is as if 
we were expelling ourselves a second time from Paradise.” 

It shall not happen again,” said Zelinda, humbly. 

But may you in this solitary region, where we are not 
likely to meet with any priest of our faith, may you not 
bestow on me, as one born anew, the blessing of holy bap- 
tism ?” 

Heimbert, after some consideration, replied: I hope I 
may do so. And if I am wrong, God will pardon me. It 
is surely done in the desire to bring to Him so worthy a 
soul as soon as possible.” 

So they walked together, silently praying, and full of 
smiling happiness, down to one of the pleasant springs of 
the oasis, and just as they reached the edge and prepared 
themselves for the holy work, the sun rose before them as 
if to confirm and strengthen their purpose, and the two 
beaming countenances looked at each other with Joy and 
confidence. Heimbert had not thought of the Christian 
name he should bestow on his disciple, but as he scooped up 
the water, and the desert lay around him so solemn in the 
rosy glow of morning, he remembered the pious hermit An- 
tony in his Egyptian solitude, and he baptized the lovely 
convert, Antonia. 

They spent the day in holy conversation, and Antonia 
showed her friend a little cave in which she had concealed 
all sorts of store for her sustenance when she first dwelt 
on the oasis. ^^For,” said she, the good God is my wit- 
ness, that I came hither only that I might, in solitude, be- 
come better acquainted with Him and His created works, 
without knowing at that time in the least of any magic 
expedients. Subsequently the Dervish can^e, tempting me, 
and the horrors of the desert joined in a fearful league 


136 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


with his terrible power, and then by degrees followed all 
that alluring spirits showed me either in dreams or 
awake/^ 

Heimbert had no scruple to take with him for the jour- 
ney any of the wine and fruits that were still fit for 
use, and Antonia assured him that by the direct way, well 
known to her, they would reach the fruitful shore of this 
waterless ocean in a few days. So with the approach of 
evening coolness, they set out on their journey. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The travelers had almost traversed the pathless plain, 
when one day they saw a figure wandering in the distance, 
for in the desolate Sahara every object is visible to the very 
horizon, if the whirlwind of dust does not conceal it from 
view. The wanderer seemed doubtful of his course, 
sometimes taking this, sometimes that direction, and 
Antonia’s eastern falcon eye could discern that it was no 
Arab, but a man in knightly garb. 

Oh, dear sister,” exclaimed Heimbert, full of anxious 
joy, then it is our poor Fadrique, who is in search of 
thee. For pity’s sake, let us hasten before he loses us and 
perhaps at last his own life also, in this immeasurable 
waste.” 

They strained every effort to reach the distant object, 
but as it was now midday and the sun shone burningly 
upon them, Antonia could not long endure this rapid 
progress ; added to which, the fearful whirlwind soon 
arose, and the figure that had been scarcely visible before 
faded from their eyes, like some phantom of the mist in 
autumn. 

With the rising moon, they began anew to hasten for- 
ward, calling loudly upon the unfortunate wanderer, and 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


137 


fluttering white handkerchiefs tied to their walking- staffs, 
as signal flags, but it was all in vain. The object that had 
disappeared remained lost to view. Only a few giraffes 
sprang shyly past them, and the ostriches quickened their 
speed. 

At length, as morning dawned, Antonia paused, and 
said: ^‘Thou canst not leave me, brother, in this solitude, 
and I cannot go a single step further. God will protect 
the noble Fadrique. How could a father forsake such a 
model of knightly excellence 

The disciple shames the teacher, replied Heimbert, 
his sad face brightening into a smile. We have done 
our part, and we may confidently hope that God will come 
to the aid of our failing powers and do what is necessary. 
As he spoke, he spread his mantle on the sand, that 
Antonia might rest more comfortably. Suddenly looking 
up, he exclaimed: Oh, God! yonder lies a man, com- 
pletely buried in the sand. Oh! that he may not be 
already dead 

He immediately began to sprinkle wine, from the flask 
he carried, on the brow of the fainting traveler, and to 
chafe his temples with it. 

The man at last slowly opened his eyes, and said: 
had hoped the morning dew would not again have fallen 
on me, but that unknown and unlamented I might have 
perished here in the desert, as must be the case in the 
end.” So saying, he closed his eyes again, like one intoxi- 
cated with sleep, but Heimbert continued his restoratives 
unwearyingly, and at length the refreshed wanderer half 
raised himself from the sand with an exclamation of 
astonishment. 

He looked from Heimbert to his companion, and from 
her again at Heimbert, and suddenly exclaimed, gnashing 
his teeth: Ha, was it to be thus! I was not even to be 
allowed to die in the dull happiness of quiet solitude! 


138 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


I was to be first doomed to see my rivaFs success and my 
sister’s shame!” At the same time, he sprang to his feet, 
with a violent effort, and rushed forward upon Heimbert 
with drawn sword. But Heimbert moved neither sword 
nor arm, and merely said in a gentle voice: Wearied out, 
as you now are, I cannot possibly fight with you; besides 
I must first place this lady in security.” 

Antonia, who had at first gazed with much emotion at 
the angry knights, now stepped suddenly between the two 
men, and cried out: '‘Oh, Fadrique, neither misery nor 
anger can utterly disfigure you. But what has my noble 
brother done to you?” 

" Brother?” said Fadrique with astonishment. 

" Or godfather, or confessor,” interrupted Heimbert; 
" as you will. Only do not call her Zelinda, for her name 
is now Antonia; she is a Christian and waits to be your 
bride.” ^ 

Fadrique stood fixed with surprise, but Heimbert’s true- 
hearted words and Antonia’s lovely blushes soon revealed 
the happy enigma to him. He sank down before the 
longed-for form with a sense of exquisite delight, and in 
the midst of the inhospitable desert, the fiowers of love 
and gratitude and confidence sent their sweetness heaven- 
ward. 

The excitement of this happy surprise at last gave way 
to bodily fatigue. Antonia, like some drooping blossom, 
stretched her fair form on the again burning sand, and 
slumbered under the protection of heiTover and her chosen 
brother. 

" Sleep also,” said Heimbert softly to Fadrique; " you 
must have wandered about wildly and wearily, for exhaus- 
tion is pressing down your eyelids with leaden weight. I 
am quite fresh, and I will watch meanwhile.” 

"Ah, Heimbert,” sighed the noble Castilian, " my sister 
is thine, thou messenger from heaven; that is an under- 
stood thing. But, now for our affair of honor!” 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


139 


Certainly,” said Ileimbert, very gravely, as soon as 
we are again in Spain, you must give me satisfaction for 
that over-hasty expression. Till then, however, I beg you 
not to mention it. An unfinished quarrel is no good sub- 
j ject for conversation. ” 

I Fadrique laid himself sadly down to rest, overcome by 
I long resisted sleep, and Heiinbert knelt down with a glad 
' heart, thanking the good God for having given him suc- 
, cess, and for blessing him with a future full of joyful 
j assurance. 


I CHAPTEK XVL 

The next day the three travelers reached the edge of the 
I desert, and refreshed themselves for a week in an adjacent 
village, which, with its shady trees and green pastures, 

• seemed like a little paradise in contrast to the joyless 
: Sahara. Fadrique’s condition, especially, made this rest 
i necessary. He had never left the desert during the whole 
I time, gaining his subsistence by fighting with wandering 
I Arabs, and often almost exhausted by the utter want of all 
food and drink. At length he had become so thoroughly 
j confused that the stars could no longer guide him, and he 
I had been driven about, sadly and objectless, like the dust 
clouds of the desert. 

Even now, at times, when he would fall asleep after the 
midday meal, and Antonia and Heimbert would watch 
his slumbers, like two smiling angels, he would suddenly 
start up, and gaze round him with a terrified air, 
and then, it was not till he had refreshed himself by 
looking at the two friendly faces, that he would sink back 
again into quiet repose. When questioned on the matter, 
after he was fully awake, he told them that in his wander- 
ings, nothing had been more terrible to him than the de- 


140 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


luding dreams which had transported him, sometimes to 
his own home, sometimes to the merry camp of his com- 
rades, and sometimes into Zelinda’s presence, and then 
leaving him doubly helpless and miserable in the horrible 
solitude as the delusion vanished. It was on this account 
that, even now, waking was fearful to him, and even in 
sleep a vague consciousness of his past sufferings would 
often disturb him. “ You cannot imagine it,” he added. 

To be suddenly transported from well-known scenes into 
the boundless desert! And instead of the longed-for en- 
chanting face of my beloved, to see an ugly camel’s head 
stretched over me inquisitively with its long neck, starting 
back as I rose with still more ugly timidity!” 

This, with all other painful consequences of his past 
miseries, soon wholly vanished from Fadrique’s mind, and 
they cheerfully set out on their journey to Tunis. The 
consciousness, indeed, of his injustice to Heimbert and its 
unavoidable results, often lay like a cloud upon the noble 
Spaniard’s brow, but it also softened the natural proud 
severity of his nature, and Antonia could cling the more 
tenderly and closely to him with her loving heart. 

Tunis, which had been before so amazed at Zelinda’s 
magic power and enthusiastic hostility against the Chris- 
tians, now witnessed Antonia’s solemn baptism in a newly- 
consecrated edifice, and soon after the three companions 
took ship with a favorable wind for Malaga. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Beside the fountain where she had parted from Heim- 
bert, Dofla Clara was sitting one evening in deep thought. 
The guitar on her knees gave forth a few solitary chords, 
dreamily drawn from it, as it were, by her delicate hands, 
and at length forming themselves into a melody, while the 


THE TWO GAPTAIN8, 


141 


following words dropped softly from her partly opened 
lips: 

“ Far away, ’fore Tunis ramparts, 

Where the Christian army lies, 

Paynim hosts are fiercely fighting 

With Spanish troops and Spain’s allies. 

Who from blood-stained lilies there. 

And death’s roses pale and fair — 

Who has borne the conqueror’s prize ? 

“ Ask Duke Alba, ask Duke Alba, 

Which two knights their fame have proved. 

One was my own valiant brother. 

The other was my heart’s beloved. 

And I thought that I should crown them. 

Doubly bright, with glory’s prize. 

And a widow’s veil is falling 
Doubly o’er my weeping eyes. 

For the brave knights ne’er again. 

Will be found ’mid living men.” 

The music paused, and soft dew-drops fell from her 
heavenly eyes. Heimbert, who was concealed under the 
neighboring orange-trees, felt sympathetic tears rolling 
down his cheeks, and Fadrique, who had led him and 
Antonia there, could no longer delay the joy of meeting, 
but stepping forward with his two companions, he pre- 
sented himself before his sister, like some angelic mes- 
senger. 

Such moments of extreme and sudden delight, like 
heavenly blessings long expected and rarely vouchsafed, 
are better imagined by each after his own fashion, and it 
is doing but an ill service to recount all that this one did 
and that one said. Picture it therefore to yourself, dear 
reader, after your own fancy, as you are certainly far 
better able to do, if the two loving pairs in my story have 
become dear to you and you have grown intimate with 
them. If that, however, be not the case, what is the use 


142 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


of wasting unnecessary words? For the benefit of those, 
who with heart-felt pleasure could have lingered over this 
meeting of the sister with her brother and her lover, I will 
proceed with increased confidence. Although Heirnbert, 
casting a significant look at Fadrique, was on the point of 
retiring as soon as Antonia had been placed under Dona 
Clara^s protection, the noble Spaniard would not permit 
him. He detained his companion in arms, with courteous 
and brotherly requests that he would remain till the 
evening repast, at which some relatives of the Mendez 
family joined the party, and in their presence Fadrique 
declared the brave Heirnbert of Waldhausen to be Dona 
ClaiVs fiance, sealing the betrothal with the most solemn 
words, so that it might remain indissoluble, whatever 
might afterward occur which should seem inimical to 
their union. The witnesses were somewhat astonished at 
these strange precautionary measures, but at Fadrique’s 
desire they unhesitatingly gave their word that all should 
be carried out as he wished, and they did this the more 
unhesitatingly, as the Duke of Alba, who had just been in 
Malaga on some naval business, had filled the whole city 
with the praises of the two young captains. 

As the richest wine was now passing round the table in 
the tall crystal goblets, Fadrique stepped behind Heimbert's 
chair, and whispered to him: “If it please you, seflor — the 
moon is just risen and is shining as bright as day — I am 
ready to give you satisfaction.^^ Heirnbert nodded in 
assent, and the two youths quitted the hall, followed by 
the sweet salutations of the unsuspecting ladies. 

As they passed through the beautiful garden, Fadrique 
said with a sigh: “We could have wandered here so hap- 
pily together, but for my over-rashness!^’ 

“Yes, indeed,” said Heirnbert, “but so it is, and it 
cannot be otherwise, if we would continue to look upon 
each other as a soldier and a nobleman,” 


THE TWO CAPTAINS, 


143 


True!” replied Fadrique, and they hastened to reach a 
distant part of tlie garden, where the sound of their clash- 
ing swords could not reach the gay hall of betrothal they 
had left. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

Secret and inclosed, with blooming shrubs planted 
around, with not a sound to be heard of the merry com- 
pany, nor of the animated streets of the city, with the full 
moon shining overhead and brightening the solemn circle 
with its clear brilliancy — such was the spot. The two 
captains unsheathed their gleaming swords, and stood op- 
posite each other, ready for the encounter. But before 
they began the combat a nobler feeling drew them to each 
other’s arms; they lowered their weapons and embraced in 
the most fraternal manner. They then tore themselves 
away and the fearful contest began. 

They were now no longer brothers-in-arms, no longer 
friends, no longer brothers-in-law, who directed their sharp 
steels against each other. With the most resolute boldness, 
but with the coolest collectedness, each fell upon his ad- 
versary, guarding his own breast at the same time. After 
a few hot and dangerous passes, the combatants were 
obliged to rest, and during the pause they regarded each 
other with increased love, each rejoicing to find his com- 
rade so valiant and so honorable. And then the fatal 
strife began anew. 

With his left hand Heimbert dashed aside Fadrique’s 
sword, which had been aimed at him with a thrust in tierce, 
sideward, but the keen edge had penetrated his leathern 
glove, and the red blood gushed out. Hold I” cried Fad- 
rique, and they searched for the wound, but soon perceiv- 
ing that it was of no importance, and binding it up, they 
both began the combat with undiminished vigor. 


144 


TEE TWO CAPTAINS. 


It was not long before Heimbert’s blade pierced Fadri- 
que's right shoulder, and the German, feeling that he had 
wounded his opponent, now on his side called out to halt. 
At first Fadrique would not acknowledge to the injury, 
but soon the blood began to trickle down, and he was 
obliged to accept his friend’s careful assistance. Still, this 
wound also appeared insignificant, the noble Spaniard still 
felt power to wield his sword, and again the deadly con- 
test was renewed with knightly ardor. 

Presently the garden gate clanked, and the sound of a 
horse’s step was heard advancing though the shrubbery. 
Both combatants paused in their stern work, and turned 
toward the unwelcome disturber. The next moment, 
through the slender pines, a horseman was visible whose 
dress and bearing proclaimed him a warrior, and Fadrique, 
as master of the house, at once addressed him. 

Sefior,” said he, why you come here, intruding 
into a strange garden, we will inquire at another time. For 
the present, I will only request you to leave us free from 
further interruption by immediately retiring, and to favor 
me with your name.” 

Ketire, I will not,” replied the stranger, but my 
name I will gladly tell you. I am the Duke of Alba.” 
And as he spoke, by a movement of his charger, a bright 
moonbeam fell upon his pale thin face, the dwelling-place 
of all that was grand and worthy and terrible. 

The two captains bowed low, and dropped their weapons. 

“ I ought to know you,” continued Alba, looking at 
them with his sparkling eyes. Yes, truly, I know you well; 
you are the two young heroes at the battle of Tunis. God 
be praised that two such brave warriors, whom I had given 
up for lost, are still alive; but tell me, what is this affair 
of honor that has turned your good swords against each 
other? For I hope you will not hesitate to declare to me 
the cause of your knightly contest.” 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


145 


They complied with the great duke's behest. Both the 
noble youths related the whole circumstances, from the 
evening previous to their embarkation up to the present 
moment, while Alba remained between them, in silent 
thought, almost motionless, like some equestrian statue. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The captains had already long finished their story, and 
the duke still remained silent and motionless, in deep re- 
fiection. At last he began to speak, and addressed them 
as follows: 

^^May God and His holy word help me, my young 
knights, when I say that I consider, after my best and 
most conscientious belief, that this affair of yours is now 
honorably at an end. Twice have you met each other in 
contest on account of those irritating words which escaped 
the lips of Don Eadrique Mendez ; and indeed if the 
slight wounds you have hitherto received are not sufficient 
compensation for the angry expression, there is still your 
common fight before Tunis, and the rescue in the desert 
afforded by Sir Heimbert of Waldhausen to Don Fad- 
rique Mendez, after he had gained his bride for him. 
From all this, I consider that the Knight of Waldhausen 
is entitled to pardon any offence of an adversary to whom 
i he has shown himself so w^ell inclined. Old Roman his- 
tory tells us of two captains of the great Julius Caesar, 
who settled a dispute and cemented a hearty friendship 
with each other, when engaged in the same bold fight, 
delivering each other in the midst of a Gallic army. I 
affirm, however, that you two have done more for each 
other; and therefore I declare your affair of honor to be 
settled, and at an end. Sheathe your swords, and embrace 
each other in my presence.” 


146 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


Obedient to the command of their general, the young 
knights for the present sheathed their weapons; but anx- 
ious lest the slightest possible shadow should fall on their 
honor, they yet delayed the reconciling embrace. 

The great Alba looked at them with somewhat of an 
indignant air, and said: '^Do you then suppose, young 
knights, that I could wish to save the lives of two heroes 
at the expense of their honor? I would rather at once 
have struck you dead, both of you at once. But I see 
plainly that with such obstinate minds one must have 
recourse to other measures.” 

And dismounting from his horse, he fastened it to a 
tree, and then stepped forward between the two captains 
with a drawn sword in his right hand, crying out: Who- 
ever will deny in any wise that the quarrel between Sir 
Heimbert of Waldhausen and Don Fadrique Mendez is 
honorably and gloriously settled, must settle the matter at 
the peril of his life with the Duke of Alba; and should the 
present knights have any objection to raise to this, let 
them declare it. I stand here as champion for my own 
conviction.” 

The youths bowed submissively before the great umpire, 
and fell into each other’s arms. The duke, however, em- 
braced them both with hearty affection, which appeared 
all the more charming and refreshing, as it rarely burst 
forth from this stern character. Then he led the recon- 
ciled friends back to their betrothed, and when these, after 
the first joyful surprise was over at the presence of the ' 
honored general, started back at seeing drops of blood on i 
the garments of the youths, the duke said, smiling : Oh 
ye brides-elect of soldiers, you must not shrink from such 
jewels of honor. Your lovers could bring you no fairer 
wedding-gift.” 

The great Alba was not to be deprived of the pleasure of 
enacting the office of father to the two happy brides, and 


THE TWO CAPTAINS. 


14 ? 


the festival of their union was fixed for the following day. 
From that time forth they lived in undisturbed and joyful 
concord; and, though the Knight Heimbert was recalled 
soon afterward with his lovely consort to the bosom of his 
German Fatherland, he and Fadrique kept up the link 
between them by letters and messages; and even in after 
times, the descendants of the lord of Waldhausen boasted 
of their connection with the noble house of Mendez, Avhile 
the latter have ever sacredly preserved the tradition of the 
brave and magnanimous Heimbert. 






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A\ 







ASLAUGA’S KNIGHT. 


CHAPTER I. 

Many years ago, on the Island of Fiihnen, there lived 
a noble knight named Erode, the friend of the Skalds; 
thus entitled not only because he entertained all famous 
and noble bards in his beautiful castle, but because of his 
great efforts to discover those ancient songs, sayings, and 
legends existing in Kunic or other characters. For this 
object he had even made some voyages to Iceland, and 
had fought many a bloody battle with the pirates; for he 
was a manly knight, striving to follow his ancestors not 
only in love of song, but to emulate them in military 
prowess. Although he was still scarcely beyond the prime 
of youth, all the other nobles of the island gladly followed 
his counsels and his banner; indeed his renown had already 
passed beyond the sea to the neighboring kingdom of 
Germany. This was the aim after which he aspired; for 
it would have broken his heart had he believed that some 
future day none of his songs would be sung and none of 
his legends related. 

One bright autumn evening, this honor-loving knight 
was sitting in front of his castle, as he was wont to do, 
that he might look on all sides far over land and sea, and 
invite any passing travelers, as was his custom, to share his 
noble hospitality. But on this day he saw but little of all 
that he was accustomed to look on; for an old book, with 
artistic and beautifulW-illuminated characters, which he 
had just received from a learned Icelander, lay on his 


152 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT. 



knee. It was the legend of the fair Aslauga, the daughter * 
of Sigurd, who at first concealing her noble birth had 
in mean attire kept goats among the common peasant- 
people, until the golden veil of her fiowing hair attracted 
King Kagnar Lodbrog; and inviting her to become his 
queen, she was the ornament of the Danish throne until 
her death. ■■ 

It seemed to the Knight Erode as if the gracious lady : 
Aslauga arose actually before him ; and his calm and 
valiant heart — subject, it is true, to all the fair sex, yet 
never until now touched by affection for any especial lady 
— was kindled with love for the beautiful daughter of ij 
Sigurd. What does it matter,” he thought within him- :■ 
self, that she has disappeared from earth for more than ‘ 
a hundred years? She sees, nevertheless, clearly into this 
heart of mine, and what more can a knight desire? She ; 
shall from henceforth be my lady-love and my helper in 
battle and in song.” And he forthwith made a song upon 
his new love, which ran as follows: 

“ They ride and they search through each valley and height, | 
To seek for the maiden most beauteous and bright; 

Through city and fortress they gallop so fleet, 

To seek for the maiden most tender and sweet; 

They ramble through paths never trodden before. 

To seek for a maiden with wisdom and lore; 

Oh! ride on, ye knights! for ye never will see, 

What the pure light of song has revealed unto me. 

I have found her, the sweetest, the wisest, the best. 

Arousing the courage that dwells in my breast, 

And though during life I ne’er union should find. 

Still her face would in death be impressed on my mind; 

And though she no longer on earth may abide. 

The sweet link draws me ever in dreams to her side. 

So good-night, fair world! and sweet love, good-day! 

He who seeks in good earnest, success will repay,” 

Much of that depends upon luck,” said a liollow voice 




ASLA VGA'S KNIGHT. 


153 


close beside the knight; and on looking round he saw a 
poor peasant-woman so closely wrapped in a gray mantle 
that he could not distinguish her features in the least. 
She looked over his shoulder on the book, and said with a 
deep sigh: 

I know that story well; and it fares no better with me 
than with the maiden of whom it tells. 

Erode gazed at her with astonishment. 

Yes, indeed; yes, indeedP^ she continued, nodding her 
head strangely. ‘‘I am the granddaughter of the mighty 
Kolf, to whom the most beautiful castles and forests and 
fields of this island belonged; thy castle and thy domains. 
Erode, belonged to him with the rest. We have now come 
to poverty; and because I am not as beautiful as Aslauga, 
there is no hope that I shall recover my possessions, and 
so I prefer to keep my poor face wholly concealed.^*' 

It seemed as if she were shedding hot tears under her 
veil. Erode was very much touched at this, and begged 
her for God’s sake to let him know how he could help her, 
for that he was a descendant of the great old northern 
heroes, and perhaps something still better than they — 
namely, he was a good Christian. 

almost think,” she murmured forth from beneath 
her veiling mantle, thou mayst be that same Erode 
whom they call the Good, and the friend of the Skalds, 
and of whose generosity and clemency such wonderful 
stories are told. If it be so, there may be help for me. 
Thou needst only give up to me the half of thy fields and 
pasture-lands, and I should be tolerably able to live as 
befits the granddaughter of the mighty Eolf.” 

Erode looked down thoughtfully, partly because she had 
asked for so very much, and partly because he was reflect- 
ing whether she could really be descended from the power- 
ful Rolf. After a short silence, however, the mantled 
figure began again; ‘^I have certainly been mi. taken, and 


154 


ASLA UQA'S KNIOHT. 


thou art not the much-renowned and gentle-hearted 
Erode. He would surely not have hesitated so long about 
a trifle! But the utmost means shall be tried. See now! 
for the sake of the beautiful Aslauga, of whom thou hast 
just been reading and singing, for the sake of the daughter 
of the glorious Sigurd, grant my request!” 

Then Erode started up passionately, exclaiming: ^'Your 
demand shall be granted!” and he extended his knightly 
hand in confirmation of his w'ords. But he could not 
grasp the hand of the peasant-woman, although the dark 
form still remained close before him. A secret shudder 
began to pass through his limbs, while suddenly a light 
emanated from the figure, a golden light, enveloping her 
completely, and he felt as if Aslauga were before him, 
with the flowing veil of her golden hair, smiling on him 
kindly. Dazzled and enraptured, he sank on his knees. 
When he at length rose again he only saw an autumn 
mist spreading over the meadow, fringed at its edges with 
the last glow of evening, and then vanishing far over the 
waves. 

The knight knew not what had happened to him. 
Deeply thoughtful, he returned to his apartments, feeling 
almost certain at one moment that he had beheld Aslauga, 
and at the next that some hobgoblin had appeared to him 
with its juggling tricks, spitefully mocking the service 
which he had vowed to his dead mistress. But hence- 
forth, whenever he roamed through valley and forest and 
heath, or sailed on the sea, similar apparitions met him; 
once he found a lute lying in the wood and frightened a 
wolf away with it; and when the lute, untouched, emitted 
sounds, a beautiful little child rose from it, as had been 
the case with Aslauga herself. Then he saw goats clam- 
bering up the highest cliffs on the shore, and a golden 
figure tending them: then again a shining queen in a radiant 
bark would glide close by him, and salute him kindly; and 


ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT. 


155 


whenever he tried to approach any oi‘ these, they vanished 
into mist and cloud and vapor. Many a song could possi- 
bly be sung of all this. So much, however, he learned 
from it all, that the beautiful Lady Aslauga accepted his 
services, and that he had in deed and truth become her 
knight. 


CHAPTER II. 

MEAjq'WHiLE the winter had come and gone. In north- 
ern countries it never fails to bring with it, to those who 
understand and love it aright, many beautiful and signifi- 
cant images, with which many a child of man might be 
satisfied for all time, so far as earthly happiness is con- 
cerned. But now when the spring came with its opening 
buds and flowing waters, there came also welcome and 
bright tidings to Fuhnen from the land of Germany. 

There stood on the rich banks of the Maine, where it 
flows through the fertile land of Franconia, a castle of 
almost royal dimensions, the orphaned heiress of which 
was a relative of the Roman emperor. Her name was Hil- 
degardis, and she was known far and wide as the most 
beautiful of maidens. On this account her imperial uncle 
desired that she should wed none but the most valiant 
knight. He followed, therefore, the example of many a 
noble lord in such a case, and proclaimed a tournament, 
at which the chief prize was to be the hand of the fair Hil- 
degardis, unless the victor^s heart were already given to a 
wedded wife or to a betrothed maiden. For no brave and 
noble knight was to be excluded from the contest, so that 
the trial of courage and strength might be all the greater. 
The renowned Frode now received tidings of this from his 
German brethren in arms, and he prepared himself to ap- 
pear at the festival. 


156 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT, 


Before all things, he forged for himself a splendid suit 
of armor; for among all the armorers of the north, famous 
as the land is for its skill in the art, he was the most ex- 
cellent. He worked the helmet out of pure gold, and 
fashioned it in such a manner that it looked like a mass of 
flowing hair, calling to mind Aslauga^s golden tresses. 
On the breast-piece of his silver-plated armor he manufac- 
tured a golden image in half-relief, representing Aslauga 
with her veil of flowing hair, so that it might be known at 
the very beginning of the tournament that this knight, 
bearing the image of a lady on his breast, was not flght- 
ing for the hand of the fair Hildegardis, but only for the 
pleasure of the contest and for knightly fame. 

Then he took a beautiful Danish steed from his stables, 
embarked carefully on board a vessel, and sailed prosper- 
ously to the opposite shore. 


CHAPTER III. 

In one of those fair beech-woods constantly to be seen in 
the fertile German lands. Erode one day met with a young 
and courteous knight, of delicate form, who invited the 
noble Northman to partake of the meal which he had most 
comfortably prepared on the smooth turf under the agree- 
able shade of the trees. As the two knights sat happily 
together at their repast, they felt attracted toward each 
other, and were delighted when on rising from it, they 
found that their destination led them for the present along 
the same road. Not that they had come to this under- 
standing by many words; for the young knight, whose 
name was Edwald, was of a silent nature, and would sit for 
hours quietly smiling, without once opening his lips to 
speak. But even in this quiet smile there lay a sweet 
amiable grace, and when now and then a simple but 


A8LA UOA'^8 KNIGHT. 


157 


thoughtful word crossed his lips, it seemed like something 
over and above, which merited thanks. It was the same 
with the little songs which he sang from time to time. 
They ceased almost as soon as they were begun, but 
there was a deep and graceful spirit in the short verses, 
whether breathed forth like a tender sigh or like a happy 
smile. And the noble Frode felt as if a younger brother 
were riding beside him, or even a gentle blooming son. 

They remained together in this way for many days; it 
almost seemed as if their path were marked out for them in 
inseparable union, and much as they rejoiced at this, yet 
they looked sadly at each other at every fresh starting and 
at every cross-way, when no change in their common direc- 
tion showed itself. Indeed it seemed at times as if Ed- 
wald’s downcast eye was moistened by a tear. 

It happened that in one of the hostelries at which they 
halted, they met an arrogant knight, of gigantic stature 
and powerful frame, with speech and manners betokening 
foreign birth. He appeared to have come from Bohemia. 
He looked with a strange smile at Frode, who had before 
him the ancient book of Aslauga’s history, and was eagerly 
reading it. You must surely be an ecclesiastical knight?” 
he said, inquiringly, and apparently on the point of be- 
ginning a whole train of unseemly jests. But Frode’s 
negative answer was so seriously and calmly given that the 
Bohemian suddenly stopped, as one has often seen beasts 
who, having ventured to mock their king, the lion, became 
subdued before a single glance from his eye. 

Subdued, however, the Bohemian certainly was not. On 
the contrary, he began to ridicule young Edwald on ac- 
count of his delicate form and silence; and though at first 
Edwald bore this with great patience, when the stranger at 
length uttered an unbecoming expression, he rose up, 
buckled on his sword, and said, bowing gracefully: I 
thank you, sir knight, for having given me an opportunity 


158 


ASLAUOA^S KNIOHT, 


of showing that I am neither a slothful nor an unpractised 
knight. For only thus is your behavior to be excused, 
which otherwise must be termed most unmannerly. Are 
you ready 

So saying, he moved to the door; the Bohemian fol- 
lowed him with a scornful smile, and Frode was full of 
anxiety for his young and tender friend, whose honor was 
nevertheless far too dear to him to allow him in any w^ay 
to interpose. 

But it was soon evident that the Northman's fears were 
unnecessary. With equal power and dexterity, Edwald 
assailed his gigantic adversary, so that it almost looked 
like one of those combats of knights with wood monsters 
wdiich we read of in old books. The issue too was of a 
similar character. Edwald rushed in upon the Bohemian, 
as he was preparing to give a decisive stroke, and threw 
him with the force of a wrestler to the ground. But he 
spared his conquered foe, courteously helping him to rise, 
and then mounted his horse. Soon after, he and Frode 
left the hostelry, and again continued their journey along 
the same road. 

^‘From henceforth thifs gives me pleasure,” said Frode, 
pointing with satisfaction to the common road tliey were 
taking. I must confess to you, Eddy” — he had ac- 
customed himself to call his young friend by the child-like 
name — I must confess to you that whenever I thought 
hitherto that you might perhaps be going with me to tlie 
tournament which is to be held in honor of the beautiful 
Hildegardis, a sense of dread would come over my heart. 
1 saw well your noble knightly courage, but I feared the 
power in your delicate limbs might not be adequate to it. 
Now I have learned to know you as a warrior who seeks 
his equal, and God be praised if we ever keep the same 
road, and bid each other welcome speedily in the lists !” 

Edwald, however, looked at him very sadly, and said ; 


ASLAUQA'S KNIGHT. 


159 


“ What can my skill and my strength avail if I must use 
them against yon, and that for the highest prize on earth, 
which after all only one of us can win ? Ah ! I have long 
foreboded with a heavy heart the sad tidings that you also 
V were on your way to the tournament of the beautiful 
1 1 Ilildegardis/' 

I ^^Eddy,” replied Erode, smiling, ^^you sweet, kindly 
I child, do you not then see that I already bear on my breast- 
jjN armor the image of a liege lady? My contest is only for 
|r the honor of victory, and not for your fair Hildegardis/’ 
fair Hildegardis! ” sighed Edwald. ‘‘That she is 
not, and never will be, or were she to be so — ah! Erode, it 
would, notwithstanding, pierce your heart. I know the 
Northland faith is as deeply rooted as your rocks, and is 
as hard to melt as their summits of snow, but no child of 
man may dare to imagine that he could look unscathed 
■ into the eyes of Hildegardis. The haughty, overhaughty 
' maiden has so completely infatuated my calm and humble 
I mind that I forget the gulf which lies between us, and 
pursue her; and I would rather perish than renounce the 
j| rash hope of winning that eagle spirit for my own.” 

'j “ I will help you to do so, Eddy,” replied Erode, still 
1; smdling. “If I only knew how this sovereign lady looks. 

! She must be like the Yalkyrae of our heathen ancestors, 
since so many brave warriors are vanquished by her.” 
I Edwald gravely drew a picture from beneath his armor, 
j and held it out before him. Eixed, and as if enchanted, 

I Erode gazed upon it; his cheeks glowed, his eyes sparkled, 

I the smile disappeared from his countenance, as the sun- 
light passes from the meadows before the darkening storm. 

“You see now, my noble comrade,” whispered Edwald, 
“ that for one of us two, or for both of us, the joy of life 
is gone.” 

“Not yet,” leplied Erode, with a powerful effort; “ but 
hide your wonderful picture, and let us rest under this 


160 


A8LA VGA'S KNIOUT. 


shade. Your encounter must have somewhat exhausted 
you, and a strange weariness oppresses me like a leaden 
weight. They dismounted from their steeds, and 
stretched themselves on the ground. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The noble Erode had no desire for sleep, he only wished 
undisturbed to wrestle powerfully with himself, in order, 
if possible, to drive from his mind the fearful beauty of 
Ilildegardis. But it was as if this strange influence had 
become a part of his very life, and at length a restless, 
dreamy sleep actually overshadowed the exhausted knight. 
It appeared to him as if he was fighting with many 
knights, and Ilildegardis was looking on smilingly from a 
richly-ornamented balcony, and just as he thought he had 
gained the victory a groan would rise from the bleeding 
Edwald lying beneath his horse’s feet. Then again it 
seemed to him that Hildegardis was standing by his side in 
the church, and that he was about to be united to her in 
marriage; he knew well that he was not right, and with a 
powerful effort he repressed the ^^3^es,” which he was on 
the point of uttering, while at the same time his eyes were 
moistened with hot tears. He was at length awoke from 
these, and from still wilder and more confused visions, by 
the sound of Edwald’s voice. He rose, and heard his com- 
panion say courteously in the direction of a neighboring 
copse: Come back again, noble maiden. I will certainly 

help you, if I can, and I had no intention of frightening 
you away; only I did not wish you to wake my brother-in- 
arms from his slumbers.” A gleam of gold shone through 
the bushes as the figure vanished. 

‘^For heaven’s sake, my faithful comrade,” cried Erode, 
''with whom were you speaking, and whom have you seen 
by my side?” 


ASLAm^VS KNIGHT. 


161 


I cannot myself rightly understand it/’ said Edwald. 
‘‘ You bad scarcely fallen asleep than a figure came out of 
the forest, wrapped in a large dark mantle; I took her at 
first for a peasant. She seated herself at your head, and, 
although I could see nothing of her face, I observed that 
she was very sad and was even shedding tears. I signed to 
her to go away, that she might not disturb you, and I was 
on the point of olfering her a piece of gold, supposing 
that poverty was the cause of her deep sorrow. But my 
hand all at once seemed paralyzed, and a shudder passed 
through my mind, as if I had entertained such a purpose 
toward a queen. At the same time gleaming locks of gold 
waved here and there between the folds of mantle, and 
the copse began to be almost radiant with the refiection. 
‘ Poor boy,’ she then said, ^ thou lovest indeed, and thou 
canst understand how a noble woman’s heart burns with 
aching sorrow, when a knightly hero, who has vowed him- 
self to be her own, turns his affections aside and is 
drawn away by lower aspirations, like a weak slave.’ Upon 
this she rose and disappeared, sighing, into yonder copse. 
It almost seemed to me, Erode, as if she uttered your 
name.” 

‘‘ Yes, it was my name she uttered,” replied Erode, 

and not in vain has she done so. Aslauga, thy knight 
comes, and enters the lists, for thee and thy reward alone! 
At the same time, dear Eddy, we will win your haughty 
bride for you.” So saying, he vaulted on his steed with 
all his old and proud joy; and when the fair Hildegardis, 
with her dazzling and bewildering charms, rose before him, 
he would say, smiling: ^^Aslauga!” and the sun of his 
inner life would again rise bright and cloudless. 


162 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT. 


CHAPTER V. 

On a balcony in her magnificent castle on the Maine, 
Hildegardis was wont to refresh herself in the cool evening 
by gazing on the fertile landscape; but still more readily 
did she gaze on the glittering arms, which were generally 
visible on many a distant road, along which knights were 
approaching singly or with a train of squires, all eagerly 
desiring to prove their courage and strength to win the 
high prize at the coming tournament. She was indeed a 
haughty and high-minded maiden — carrying this a little 
further perhaps than even became her dazzling beauty and 
her princely rank. As she was now looking smilingly at 
the glittering roads, a damsel in her train began the follow* 
ing song: 


“ Oil! tliat I were 
A little bird I 

Through grove and pasture 
Gayly heard. 

Chanting forth in gladsome song, 

All, all the thoughts that within me throng! 

“ Oh ! could I bloom 
Like some sweet flower, 

Its perfume breathing 
O’er mead and bower; 

Giving forth in summer air 
All, all that in secret gushes there. 

But I am only 
An honest knight 
With high aim seeking 
To do aright. 

And in silence within my breast. 

My all, my all is in stillness prest.” 


Why do you sing that song, and just now too?'" said 


ASLAUOA^S KNIGHT. 


163 


Hildegardis, trying to look scornful and proud as she 
spoke, with a deep and secret sorrow evident in her face. 

It came unawares into my mind,^^ replied the girl, 
' when I looked upon the road by which the gentle Edwald, 
with his little graceful songs, first came to us, and then J 
sang this, which was one of his. But does it not seem to 
you, my mistress, and to you too, my companions, as if 
that were Edwald riding along the road there toward the 
castle?” 

Dreamer!” said Hildegardis, laughing scornfully, and 
yet she could not withdraw her eyes for some time from 
the knight, till at length, almost with an effort, she turned 
them on Erode, who was riding by his side, and said: 

Yes, indeed, that is Edwald. But what do you see that 
is so grand in the silent, humble boy? Turn your gaze, 
my maidens, here, upon this majestic figure, if you wish to 
see a glorious knight.” She was silent. A voice within 
her, as of prophecy, told her that the victor of the tourna- 
ment was now riding into the court-yard, and for the first 
time in her life that she had feared the presence of a fellow 
being, she felt a humble and almost painful awe of the 
noble Northern knight. 

At the evening meal, the two newly-arrived knights 
were placed opposite the royal Hildegardis. As Erode, 
after the Northern fashion, remained in full armor, the 
golden image of Aslauga gleamed brightly on the silver 
breastplate before the eyes of the haughty princess. She 
smiled scornfully, as if she were conscious that it depended 
on her will to expel the image of his lady from the breast 
and from the heart of the stranger knight. But suddenly 
a clear golden light passed through the hall, and Hilde- 
gardis, exclaiming that it lightened, covered her eyes with 
both her hands. Erode, however, looked at the dazzling 
gleam with a feeling of glad welcome. This increased 
Hildegardis’ fear of him still more, although she at the 


164 


ASLAUOA'S KNIGHT, 


same time thought that tliis noblest and most wonderful 
of men could only be born for herself alone. Still she 
could not forbear, almost against her will, now and then 
casting a glance full of emotion and tenderness at the 
poor Edwald, who sat there silent and courteous, as though 
he were smiling pitifully at his own sorrow and his vain 
hopes. 

When the two knights were alone in their sleeping 
apartment, Edwald sat for some time gazing silently out 
of the window into the dewy balmy night. Then he sang 
to his lute: 

“ A hero wise and tried, 

And a pious youth, 

Linked with him in faith and truth, 

Roamed together far and wide. 

“ The hero hy his deeds had won 
Both happiness and rest, 

The youth delight expressed. 

And with hearty joy looked on.” 

But Erode took the late from him, and said: ^^No, 
Eddy, I will teach you another song. Listen! 

“ There’s a light in the hall as of dawning day; 

’Tis the beautiful maid in her bright array. 

She looks to the left and she looks to the right. 

And suitors are watching her glance of light. 

Shall it be he with the golden attire ? 

She turns away. He may not aspire. 

Or he with the speech so thoughtful and wise? 

She resteth on him neither ear nor eyes. 

Perhaps ’tis the prince in his pageant vain ? 

Nay; different visions have filled her brain. 

Tell me, who is it throughout the land, 

Who is it has won the fair maiden’s hand ? 

Silently bearing love’s aching smart. 

Sits the noble squire that hath gained her heart ; 

They are all deceived in their hoped-for lot, 

And the one she has chosen imagines it not.” 


A8LA UOA^S KNIGHT. 


165 


Edwald thrilled with emotion. God wills,” he 

said softly to himself, but I think I could never conceive 
that such a thing could he.” 

^^As God wills!” repeated Erode. The two friends em- 
braced each other and soon fell happily asleep. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Some days after. Erode was sitting in a secluded bower 
in the castle garden, reading the ancient book of his beau- 
tiful mistress Aslauga. It happened just then that Hil- 
degardis passed by. She paused for a few moments 
thoughtfully, and then said: How is it, strange union 
that you are of knight and sage, how is it that you dis- 
pense so little from the deep treasures of your knowledge? 
I should, however, imagine that you must have many 
a pleasant story at your disposal; for instance that which 
you have now before you, for I see fine and bright pictures 
of beautiful maidens and noble heroes painted among 
the written characters.” 

It is indeed,” said Erode, the most glorious and en- 
chanting story in the world. But you have neither 
patience nor seriousness enough to listen to our wonderful 
legends of the north.” 

^‘^Who tells you that?” replied Hildegardis, with some 
pride, which she was glad to assume toward Erode, when 
she could succeed in doing so; and, placing herself on a 
stone seat in front of him, she commanded him at once to 
read her something out of that beautiful book. 

Erode began, and in the very effort which he made to 
change the old heroic Icelandic tongue into the south 
German dialect, his heart and mind glowed with increased 
fervor and excitement. When from time to time he looked 
up, he saw the beaming countenance of Hildegardis, spark- 


166 


A8LA UOA'^S KmaET, 


ling with joy, wonder and interest, and the thought passed 
through his mind whether this after all might not be the 
chosen bride to whom Aslauga was guiding him. 

Suddenly the characters began to grow strangely con- 
fused before his eyes; it seemed as if the pictures began to 
move, and he was obliged to stop. While he was fixing 
his eyes intently on the book in the hope of overcoming 
this mysterious confusion, he heard a sweet and well- 
known voice say: ^^Make a little room, fair lady. The 
story which the knight is reading to you relates to me, and 
I hear it gladly. 

AVhen Erode raised his eyes he saw Aslauga sitting in all 
the glory of her flowing golden hair on the seat beside Hil- 
degardis. Filled with alarm, the maiden sank back faint- 
ing. Aslauga, with a solemn but graceful air, threatened 
the knight with her fair hand and vanished. 

What have I done to you?^^ said Hildegardis, when re- 
vived by his efforts; what have I done to you, evil knight, 
that you should summon your Northern specters to my 
side, and frighten me to death with your terrible magic 
arts?’^ 

Lady,^^ replied Erode, may God help me, as I have 
not summoned hither the wonderful form which has just 
appeared to us. But I now know her will most clearly, 
and I commend you to God^s protection.^’ So saying, he 
walked thoughtfully out of the shrubbery. 

Hildegardis fled timidly in another direction out of the 
gloomy shade and reached a wide and beautiful grass-plot, 
where Edwald was gathering flowers in the pleasant even- 
ing light, and smiling courteously as she approached, 
offered her a nosegay of pansies and narcissus. 


ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT. 


167 


CHAPTER VIL 

The day appointed for the tournament arrived, and a 
powerful duke, appointed by the Latin emperor as his rep- 
resentative, arranged everything in the most splendid and 
magnificent manner for the solemn festival. The place of 
combat was an extensive level ground, thickly strewn with 
the finest sand, so that horse and rider could find good 
footing on it, and it shone forth like x pure field of snow 
in the midst of the flowery plain. Rich hangings of silk 
from Arabia, curiously embroidered with Indian gold, hung 
with their various colors over the barriers inclosing the 
space, and floated from the high scaffoldings which had 
been erected for the ladies and princely spectators. 

At the upper end, under a canopy of golden arches, 
artistically interlaced, was the post of the Lady Hilde- 
gardis. Green wreaths and garlands waved gracefully 
between the glittering pillars in the soft breezes of July, 
and the impatient rage of the multitude who thronged out- 
side the lists was fixed expectantly on the spot at which the 
fairest maiden in Germany was to appear; and was only 
now and then turned in another direction by the stately 
entrance of the combatants. There was many a bright 
suit of armor, many a velvet and richly embroidered mili- 
tary coat, many a lofty waving plume to be seen! The 
splendid troop of knights moved to the places assigned 
them, greeting and speaking to each other, like some bed 
of flowers stirred by the breeze, but the flowers in it had 
grown to trees, and the white and yellow petals had been 
transformed to gold and silver, and the dew-drops to pearls 
and diamonds. For whatever was fair and costly, the 
noble knights had ingeniously and variously expended on 
the splendor of the day. 

Many eyes were fixed on Erode, who, without scarf, 
plume or mantle, arrayed in his burnished silver coat of 


168 


ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT. 


mail with the golden image of Aslaiiga, and his well- 
wrought helmet of golden locks, shone forth through the 
crowd of knights like polished brass. Others again took 
especial pleasure in looking at the young Edwald, whose 
whole armor was covered with a mantle of white velvet, 
bordered with azure and silver, while his entire helmet was 
concealed by a magnificent plume of white feathers. There 
was something of almost feminine elegance in his attire, 
and yet the conscious power with which he restrained his 
wild and snow-white charger, proclaimed the manly 
strength of the knightly stripling. 

Strangely contrasting with him, was a tall and almost 
gigantic figure, wearing a mantle of black glossy bear s 
skin, bordered by costly fur, but devoid of all ornament 
of shining metal; even the helmet was covered with black 
bear’s skin, and instead of a plume, a mane of blood-red 
horse-hair hung profusely over it. Erode and Edwald 
knew the dark knight well; it was their imcourteous guest 
at the hostelry, and he also seemed to observe the two 
knights for he turned his steed impetuously round, and 
forced his way through fhe crowd of combatants, and after 
having spoken with an ugly sallow-faced woman at the bar- 
riers, he sprang with a wild leap over the lists, and swift 
as an arrow galloped out of sight. The old woman nodded 
after him in a friendly manner ; the assembled people 
laughed, as at some strange carnival device, and Edwald 
and Erode had their own almost shuddering thoughts of 
the matter, though neither thought it well to impart them 
to the other. 

The kettle-drums rolled, the trumpets sounded; and led 
by the old duke, Hildegardis richly atth’ed, and rendered 
still more radiant by her own dazzling beauty, appeared 
under the arches of the golden bower, and bowed to the 
assembled company. Every knightly head bent low in 
return, and in almost all hearts the feeling rose that there 


ASLAUGA>S KNIGHT, 


169 


was no man on earth who could deserve a bride so queenly. 
When Frode bowed, it seemed to him as if the golden 
brightness of Aslauga^s locks floated before him, and he 
felt proud and joyful that his mistress deemed him worthy 
to be so often reminded of her. 

The tournament began. At first the knights fought 
with blunted swords and battle-axes, then they ran, lance 
in hand, man against man, and at last they divided into 
two equal parties, and a general encounter began, in which 
each was free to use sword or spear as he chose. 

Frode and Edwald had gained the same advantage over 
their antagonists, as had seemed probable to them both, 
when computing each his own strength and that of his 
friend; and now a single trial with lances was to decide 
to whom the highest prize of victory was due. Before the 
contest began they rode slowly together into the middle 
of the course, consulting where they should each take 
their place. Only keep your inspiring star ever in sight,^^ 
said Frode, smiling, ^^the same gracious help will not be 
lacking to me.'’^ Edwald looked round astonished for the 
lady to whom his friend seemed to allude, and Frode con- 
tinued: have been wrong in concealing anything from 

you, but after the tournament you shall know every- 
thing. Now lay aside all unnecessary thoughts ; dear 
Eddy, and sit firmly on your saddle, for I tell you I 
shall run this course with all my might because not only 
my honor is at stake, but the far higher honor of my 
lady.'’^ 

^^Such is my purpose also,” said Edwald, in a friendly 
tone. They shook hands and rode to their places. 

At the sound of the trumpets running with the swift- 
ness of an arrow, they met together; the lances shivered 
with a crash, the horses stumbled, the knights, immovable 
in their stirrups, pulled them up, and trotted back to 
their places. 


m 


ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT, 


When they prepared for a second course, Edwald’s gray 
charger snorted wildly and shyly; Frode’s powerful roan 
reared and pranced; it was evident that the two noble 
animals shrunk from a second hard encounter ; but 
their riders held them fast with spur and bit, and at the 
repeated sound of the trumpets, they again dashed forward. 
Vigorous and obedient, Edwald, who by one deep, ardent 
gaze at the beauty of his mistress had impressed it anew 
upon his soul, exclaimed aloud at the moment of encounter, 
“ Hildegardis!^’ and so powerfully did his lance strike his 
valiant adversary that Erode was completely thrown back 
on his steed, only with difficulty keeping his seat in his 
saddle and scarcely holding firm in his stirrups ; while 
Edwald flew by unshaken, lowering his spear to salute 
Hildegardis as he passed her bower, and then amid the 
loud applause of the multitude galloping to his place, 
ready for a third trial. Ah, even Hildegardis, taken by 
surprise, had greeted him blushingly and graciously, and 
he felt as if the intoxicating bliss of victory were already 
gained. 

But this it was not yet; for the noble Erode, glowing 
with warlike shame, subdued again his wild steed and 
chastised it with the sharp spur for its share in his past 
mischance. At the same time he whispered softly: Dear, 
beautiful lady, show thyself to me visibly; the honor of 
thy name is at stake. 

To all the spectators it seemed as if a golden rosy- 
tinted summer-cloud were passing over the deep-blue sky, 
but Erode beheld the heavenly countenance of his lady; 
he felt himself as if fanned by her golden hair, and 
exclaiming Aslauga,^’ he rushed to the encounter with 
his adversary, and Edwald was hurled from his saddle far 
upon the dusty plain. 


A8LAUQA'S KNIQHT, 


in 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Erode remained for a time perfectly motionless, after 
the custom of knights, as if waiting to see whether any 
one would dispute the victory, and mounted on his mailed 
steed he looked almost like some lofty statue of brass. 
The multitude around stood in awe-struck surprise. But 
now when at length the shout of triumph burst forth, he 
made a sign with his hand, and all were again silent. 
Then springing lightly from the saddle, he hastened to the 
spot where the fallen Edwald was striving to rise. He 
pressed him warmly to his heart, led his snow-white steed 
up to him, and would not desist till the youth had allowed 
him to hold the stirrups while he mounted. Then he 
sprang upon his own steed, and rode by Edwald^s side 
toward the golden bower of Hildegardis, where with 
lowered spear and raised vizor, he thus spoke: 

“Fairest of all living women, I here bring you Edwald, 
your knightly lover, before whose lance and sword all the 
heroes of this tournament have been laid low, myself only 
excepted, and I can make no claim to the most glorious 
jewel that awaits the victor, since, as the imagd on my 
breast-plate shows, I already serve another mistress.'^ 

The duke was preparing to advance to the two warriors, 
to lead them up to the golden bower, but a glance from 
Hildegardis restrained him, and with cheeks glowing with 
anger, she replied: 

“Then Sir Erode, my Danish knight, you serve your 
lady but ill, for it was just now that you openly called me 
the fairest of living women. 

“I did so,^^ replied Erode, with a courteous reverence, 

because my fair mistress belongs to the dead.” 

A slight shudder passed through the assembly at these 
words, and through the heart of Hildegardis also, but soon 


172 


ASLAUGA'8 KNIGHT. 


the anger of the maiden burst forth again, all the more 
vehemently as the most glorious and wonderful knight 
that she knew, had scorned her for the sake of one who 
was dead. 

I make known to all,” she cried, with solemn earnest- 
ness, that by tlie decree of my imperial uncle, this hand 
can belong to no vanquished knight, however noble and 
renowned he may otherwise have shown himself. As the 
victor at this tournament is bound to another service, this 
contest cannot affect me, and I depart hence as I came — a 
free and unbetrothed maiden.” 

The duke seemed about to interpose, but she turned 
haughtily from him, and left the golden bower. At the 
same time a wild and unexpected gust of wind tore down 
the green wreaths and garlands and carried them away in 
rustling confusion, and the people, displeased at the pride 
of Hildegardis, fancied they saw in this an omen of pun- 
ishment, and dispersed, muttering a scornful approval. 


CHAPTEK IX. 

The two knights had returned to their apartments in 
deep silence. When they arrived there, Edwald unarmed 
himself at once, and placed all the pieces of his beautiful 
shining armor together, with a careful and loving precis- 
ion, almost as if he were burying some dear beloved one. 
Then he signed to his squires to leave the chajnber, ana 
taking his lute on his arm, he sang the following song to 
its notes: 

Whom dost thou lay in the grave 

So soft and still ? 

It is my passionate, 

My joyful will. 

Sleep calm, thou dead, within thy cell ! 

My withered hope with thee must dwell.” 


ASLA UGA’S KNIGHT. 


173 


You will make me angry with your lute/" said Erode, 
unless you accustom it again to more joyful songs. It 
is too good to be a passing-bell, and you are too good to toll 
it. I tell you, my young hero, all will yet end gloriously.’" 

Edwald looked at him for a while with an expression of 
wonder, then he answered kindly: ^M^ay, dear Erode, if 
it displeases you, I will certainly not sing again."" 

He touched, however, a few sad chords, which sounded 
infinitely sweet and tender. The Northern knight was 
deeply touched, and clasping him in his arms, he said: 

Dear Eddy, sing, and speak, and do, whatever pleases 
you, it shall always be pleasant to me also. But you may 
well believe it, wdien I foretell to you not without a spirit 
of presage, that your sorrow shall change; whether in death 
or life, I know' not, but a great and overpowering joy awaits 
yon."" 

Eirmly and cheerfully, Edwald rose from his seat, seized 
powerfully his companion"s arm, and walked with him 
through the flowering garden in the balmy evening air. 

At this very hour, an old woman, muffled and concealed 
by wraps, was conducted secretly to the apartment of the 
Lady Hildegardis. The stranger, who was dark and 
strange to look at, had gathered around her for some time, 
by various juggling tricks, a part of the people returning 
home from the tournament, but they had all at last dis- 
persed in wild terror. Before this had taken place, the 
tirewoman of Hildegardis had hastened to her mistress to 
entertain’ her with an account of the strange and merry 
tricks performed by the sallow-complexioned woman, and 
the maidens of Hildegardis" train, seeing their lady"s agi- 
tation and wishing to banish her melancholy, bade the 
maid call the old woman hither. Hildegardis acceded, 
hoping thus to divert the attention of her waiting-women 
from herself, and to be able to contemplate more quietly 
and earnestly the various visions that passed before her 
mind. 


174 


ASLAUOA'S KNIGHT. 


The messenger found the place already deserted, and 
the old stranger alone in the midst, laughing immoder- 
ately. When questioned, she did not conceal that she had 
once assumed the form of an immense owl, and had de- 
clared to the spectators in a screeching tone that she was 
the devil, upon which they had all rushed screaming to 
their homes. 

The tirewoman was frightened at the ugly jest, and yet 
she did not venture to ask Hildegardis for fresh orders, as 
slie had observed her discontent. She satisfied herself 
therefore with impressing upon the old woman, with many 
threatenings and promises, that she should behave herself 
discreetly in the castle, and she then conducted her thither 
by private ways, so that none of the people whom she had 
frightened should observe her enter. 

The old woman now stood before Hildegardis, and 
although she made a low and humble salutation she 
winked at her in a strangely intimate manner, as though 
there were some secret between them. The lady felt an 
involuntary shudder, and could not withdraw her gaze from 
the features of the ugly countenance, hateful as it was to 
her. The rest seemed in nowise to have satisfied the curi- 
osity which had led them to desire to see the strange 
woman; for she performed only the most ordinary feats of 
jugglery, and recounted well-known tales, making even the 
tirewoman feel weary and indifferent, and quite ashamed 
of her recommendation. She stepped therefore away un- 
noticed, and some of the maidens followed her example, 
and as each withdrew the old crone twisted her mouth 
into a smile, and repeated her ugly confidential wink 
toward the lady. Hildegardis could not understand what 
attracted her in the jests and stories of the sallow old 
woman; but so it was; in all her life she had never listened 
so attentively to the words of any one. The old woman 
went oil relating, and the night grew dark outside, but the 


ASIA UGA'8 KNIGHT. 


175 


attendants who still remained with Hildegardis had fallen 
into a deep sleep, and had lighted none of the wax tapers 
in the apartment. 

Presently, in the gloomy twilight, the dark old woman 
rose from the little seat, which had been her place hitherto, 
and, as if she now felt herself thoroughly at home, ap- 
proached Hildegardis, half stupefied as she was with terror, 
placed herself beside her on the purple couch, and em- 
bracing her with hateful caresses, and with her long and 
withered arms, whispered a few words in her ear. It 
seemed to the lady as if she uttered the names of Frode 
and Edwald, and then she heard the sound of a fiute, 
which in its clear and silvery cadences, seemed to lull her 
into slumber; it is true she could move her limbs, but 
only to follow the sounds, which floated round the ugly 
form of the old woman like a veil of silver net-work. And 
then the old woman glided from the room and Hildegardis 
followed her, passing among all her sleeping maidens and 
singing softly as she went : “ Maidens, maidens, I wander 
by night.” 

Outside the castle stood the gigantic Bohemian knight 
with his squires and grooms. He placed a heavy bag of 
gold on the old crone’s shoulders, so heavy that she sank 
to the ground, half whimpering, half laughing; he then 
lifted the dreaming Hildegardis on his charger, and trotted 
silently away with her into the ever deepening night. 


CHAPTER X. 

Ye noble knights and lords, all ye who yesterday gal- 
lantly contended for the prize of victory and for the hand 
of the beautiful Hildegardis! Up! up! saddle your horses 
and to the rescue! The fair Hildegardis is carried otf!” 

Such was the proclamation of many a herald through 


m 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT. 


castle and town, in the early morning of the following 
day, and on all sides might be seen clouds of dust from 
knights and noble squires, as they galloped along the 
roads, by which so lately in the evening light Hildegardis 
had proudly and silently watched the approach of her 
suitors. 

Two of them, well known to us, still remained insepa- 
rably together, but they knew as little as others whether 
they were taking the right direction, for how and when 
the honored lady could have disappeared from her apart- 
ments remained a fearful and impenetrable secret to the 
whole castle. 

Edwald and Erode rode on, so long as the sun moved 
over their heads, unwearied as he; now, however, when he 
sunk in the waters of the river, tliey thought to win the 
prize from him, and they once more spurred on their 
weary horses, but the noble animals staggered and panted, 
and their riders were obliged to give them some refresh- 
ment on a grassy meadow. Secure of bringing them back 
at the first call, the knights took off bit and curb, so that 
they might enjoy the pasture and the fresh waters of the 
Maine, while they themselves rested under the brandies of 
a neighboring grove of alders. 

Deep in the cool dark shade, there gleamed as it were a 
dear but sparkling light, checking Frode^s words, who 
was just beginning to tell his friend the story of his 
knightly service to his noble mistress Aslauga ; a story 
which had been withheld hitherto, first by Edwald’s sad- 
ness, and afterward by his impatience to start on the jour- 
ney. Ah! well did Erode know that gentle golden light! 
^^Let us follow it, Eddy, said he, softly, ^*and we will 
leave the horses meanwhile to their pasture and refresh- 
ment.” 

Edwald silently obeyed the advice of his comrade in 
arms. A foreboding, half sweet, half fearful, seemed to 


A8LA UGA'S KNIGHT. 


in 


tell him that here lay the path, and indeed the only right 
path to Hildegardis. Once only, he said, in amazement: 

I have never seen the evening glow shine so exquisitely 
upon the leaves/’ Erode smilingly shook his head, and 
they pursued in silence their secret path. 

When they emerged on the other side of the alder- 
grove, upon the Maine, which by a sudden turn almost 
inclosed the grove, Edwald plainly saw that another glow 
than that of the evening light was shining on them, for 
the night had already spread dark and cloudy over the 
heavens, and the guiding gleam stood still on the banks 
of the river. The waves were lighted up by it, so that a 
little wooded island height was visible in the middle of the 
stream, and a boat on the nearest side to them was fast 
bound to a stake. As they approached, however, the 
knights saw still more; they perceived a troop of horse- 
men, of strange and foreign appearance, all sleeping, and 
in the midst of them, slumbering on cushions, lay a 
female form in white attire. 

Hildegardis!” murmured Edwald to himself, with a 
smile. And at the same time, drawing his sword, he held 
himself in readiness in case the robbers might awake, 
and signed to Erode to raise the sleeping lady and 

to convey her to a place of safety. But at the same 

moment something like an owl fluttered over the 

dark host, and all started up with clashing arms and 

hideous cries. A wild, unequal combat arose in the pro- 
found darkness, for the beaming light had disappeared; 
Erode and Edwald were separated in the crowd, and only 
at a distance heard each other’s spirited war-cry; Hilde- 
gardis, startled from her magic slumber, and not knowing 
whether she were waking or dreaming, fled with bewil- 
dered senses, weeping bitterly, into the deepest shades of 
the alder-grove. 


178 


ASLA UOA'8 KNIOHT, 


CHAPTER XI. 

Erode felt liis arm growing weary, and the warm blood 
was trickling from two wounds in his shoulder. He 
wished to fall in such a manner that he might rise up with 
honor from his bloody grave before his noble mistress 
whom he served, and casting his shield behind him, he 
grasped his sword-hilt with both his hands, and rushed 
forward wildly, with a loud war-cry, against the terrified 
enemy. He heard some voices exclaim: ^^It is the fury of 
the northern champions which is upon him! It is the 
savage fury!’’ And the whole troop dispersed in alarm, 
while the exhausted hero remained alone in the darkness, 
wounded and suffering. 

Presently Aslauga’s golden hair gleamed again in the 
alder-shade, and Erode, wearily supporting himself on his 
sword, said: “ I do not think I am wounded to death, but 
should it come to that, oh beloved mistress, wilt thou not 
surely appear to me in all thy loveliness and glory?” A 
gentle *^Yes” was breathed against his cheek, and the 
golden light vanished. 

But half fainting, Hildegardis now tottered forth from 
the copse, and said softly: ‘^In there is the terrible and 
beautiful specter of the north, out there is the fight! Oh! 
whither shall I go?” 

Then Erode stepped forward to soothe her, and was on 
the point of speaking many a word of comfort to the 
affrighted maiden, and to call for Edwald, when the return 
of the Bohemian warriors was announced by the clattering 
of their weapons and their wild shouts. Hastily, Erode 
led the maiden to the boat, pushed off from the shore, 
and rowed with all the effort his failing powers could make 
toward the island height, which he had before observed in 
the middle of the stream. But his pursuers had kindled 


ASIA UOA'^S KNIOHT. 


179 


torches, and waving them sparkling to and fro, they soon 
perceived the boat ; by their light they saw that the 
dreaded Danish knight was bleeding, and gained fresh 
courage for pursuit. Even before Erode had reached the 
shore of the island, he observed that a Bohemian was on 
the opposite side in another vessel, and soon after the 
greatest part of the enemy had embarked and were rowing 
toward him. 

Into the wood, fair maiden!^' he whispered, as soon as 
he had helped Hildegardis to land. Hide yourself there, 
while I endeavor to prevent the robbers from landing 
here ?” 

But, clinging to his arm, Hildegardis w'hispered in re- 
turn: Have I not seen that you are pale and bleeding? 

And do you wish that I should perish with terror in these 
solitary and gloomy mazes? Ah! and if your northern 
gold-haired specter were to appear again, and seat herself 
beside me! Think you perhaps I do not see her now, 
gleaming there between the bushes ?^^ 

She gleams!” repeated Erode, and new strength and 
hope ran through every vein. He climbed the hill, follow- 
ing the beautiful glimmer of light, and though Hilde- 
gardis trembled at the sight, she readily went with her 
guide, whispering softly to him from time to time: 

Oh sir knight, my noble, wonderful knight, do not 
leave me here alone! It would be my death!” 

The knight, kindly soothing her, stepped ever onward 
into the dells and the forest gloom, hearing already 
the sound of the Bohemians landing on the shore of the 
island. 

Suddenly he stood before a cave, thickly concealed by 
bushes, and here the gleam disappeared. ‘^Here, then!” 
he whispered, endeavoring to hold the branches asunder, 
to facilitate Hildegardis’ entrance. She hesitated a 
moment and then said: 


180 


ASLAUOA'S KNIOIIT. 


Suppose you were to let the branches close again behind 
me, and I were to be left in the cave alone with specters! 
Erode! You will surely follow me — trembling, hunted 
child as I am? Will you not?'" So saying, she stepped 
trustfully beneath the branches, and the knight, who had 
intended remaining as a guard without, followed her. 
Earnestly he listened through the stillness of the night, 
Hildegardis scarcely venturing to draw her breath. 
Presently the tread of an armed man was heard approach- 
ing, nearer and nearer, till at length it was close before the 
entrance of the cave. Erode endeavored in vain to free 
himself from the trembling maiden. The branches at the 
entrance were already crackling and breaking, and Erode 
exclaimed, with a sigh: 

Shall 1 then fall, like a lurking fugitive, entangled in 
a woman's garments? It is an evil end. But can I cast 
this half fainting maiden from me upon the dark hard 
earth ? Perhaps into some abyss ? Ko, come what 
will ! thou, my lady Aslauga, thou knowest that I die in 
honor!" 

‘'Erode! Hildegardis!" said a gentle, well-known voice 
at the entrance. And recognizing Edwald, Erode bore 
the lady toward him into the starlight, saying : “ She 
will die of terror in this deep cavern. Is the enemy 
near?’' 

“ Most of them are lying dead on the shore; or are 
swimming bleeding through the waves," replied Edwald. 
“ Have no care on that point, and rest yourself. Are you 
wounded, dear Erode?" 

He then proceeded to give his astonished hearers the 
short account of how in the darkness he had been pressed 
as a Bohemian into their vessel: that on landing, it had 
been easy to him to throw the robbers completely into con- 
fusion, thinking as they did that they were attacked by 
one of their own party, and considering themselves 


ASLA UGA'^S KNIGHT, 


181 


bewitclied. They begun at last to fall on each other/’ 
said Edwald, as he ended his story, ‘'and we have only 
now to wait till morning to conduct the lady home. 
For if any of the owl- squadron are still wandering about, 
they will, doubtless, hide themselves from the light of 
day.” 

During his relation he had been skillfully and carefully 
preparing a couch of moss and twigs for Hildegardis; and 
when the wearied maiden, with many a gentle word 
of gratitude, had sunk into a slumber, he began to bind 
up his friend’s wounds as well as the darkness would 
allow. 

During this serious task, with the tall dark trees rustling 
overheard, and the rippling stream in the distance. Erode, 
in a low voice, informed his brother-in-arms who was the 
mistress to whose service he was bound. Edwald listened 
very thoughtfully, but at last he said tenderly: 

" Believe me, the noble Princess Asian ga would not 
reproach you, if you linked yourself in faithful love to 
this earthly beauty. Ah! even pow, highly gifted and 
happy knight, you are, doubtless, a bright vision in the 
dreams of Hildegardis! I will not stand in your way with 
my vain wishes; it is plainly evident that she can never 
love me. I will, therefore, this very day set out for the 
war which so many brave knights of Germany are waging 
in heathen Prussia; and the black cross, which is their 
badge as warriors of the Church, I will bind to my beat- 
ing heart as its best remedy. And you, dear Frode, take 
the fair hand which you have won in fight, and lead a life 
of surpassing happiness and joy.” 

" Edwald,” said Frode, very gravely, "this is the first 
time that I ever heard a word from your lips which an 
honest knight could not put into effect. Do as you will 
toward the fair and haughty Hildegardis, but Aslauga re- 
mains my mistress, and I desire no other in life or in 
death.” 


182 


ASLAUOA'S KNIOHT. 


The youth was silent at these stern words, and looked 
abashed; and both watched through the night in serious 
thought, without any further conversation between them. 


CHAPTER XIL 

On the following morning, when the early sun shone 
brightly and smilingly over the fertile plains around the 
castle of Hildegardis, the watchman in his tower blew a 
joyful blast from his silver horn; for with his falcon eye 
he had distinguished far in the distance his beautiful mis- 
tress as she emerged from the forest between her two de- 
liverers. And from castle and town and village there came 
forth many a rejoicing train to certify with their eyes the 
happy tidings. 

Hildegardis turned to Edwald with eyes bedewed with 
tears, and said: ^MYere it not for you, young hero, all 
these might have sought long and vainly ere they had 
found me or had tracked the noble Erode, who undoubt- 
edly would now be lying stiff and silent, a mangled corpse 
in that gloomy cavern. 

Edwald bowed lowly, but persisted in his wonted silence; 
indeed it seemed as if an unusual grief repressed the pleas- 
ant smile which usually met every pleasant .word with 
child-like sweetness. 

The duke, the guardian of Hildegardis, had in the great 
joy of his heart prepared a splendid banquet, and had 
invited all the knights and ladies present to attend it. 
While Erode and Edwald, in brilliant magnificence, were 
ascending the steps close behind their rescued lady, Ed- 
wald said softly to his friend: ‘'Noble steadfast hero, you 
can never love me more!'*' And when Erode looked at 
him with astonishment, he continued: “Thus it is when 
children take it into their head to counsel heroes, however 


ASLAUQA^S KNIGHT. 


183 


well they may mean it. I have grievously sinned against 
you, and against your noble mistress, the Lady Aslauga, 
still more.” 

‘‘Because you would have gladly plucked the flower of 
your own garden to gladden mine!” said Frode; “no, you 
are now as ever my gentle brother-in-arms, dear Eddy, and 
you have perhaps become still dearer to me.” 

Edwald smiled again, silently happy, like a flower after 
the morning showers in May. 

Hildegardis glanced mildly and kindly at him, and often 
conversed graciously with him, while, on the other hand, 
a reverential awe seemed since the previous day to separate 
her from Frode. But Edwald also was much altered. 
However modestly and gladly he welcomed the favor of his 
mistress, it yet seemed as if some barrier intervened be- 
tween them, forbidding him to entertain even the most 
distant hope of successful love. 

It happened that a noble count from the emperor’s court 
was announced, who, being dispatched on an important 
mission, wished to pay his respects to the Lady Hildegardis 
as he passed by. She received him gladly, and as soon as 
the first salutations were over he said, looking at her and 
Edwald: “I know not, but perhaps my good fortune may 
have brought me hither to a very happy festivity. It would 
be most joyful tidings to the emperor, my master.” 

Hildegardis and Edwald looked beautiful in their blush- 
ing confusion; and the count, at once perceiving that he 
had been overhasty, bowed low to the young knight and 
said: “Pardon me, noble Duke Edwald, for my indiscre- 
tion, but I know the wish of my sovereign; and the hope 
of seeing it already accomplished prompted my tongue to 
speak.” 

All eyes were turned inquiringly upon the young hero, 
who answered with graceful embarrassment: “It is true; 
the emperor, during my last visit to his courts raised me 


184 


ASLAUOA'S KNIGHT, 


in his infinite favor to the rank of duke. It was my good 
fortune that in an encounter some of the enemy^s horse 
who had dared to attack the sacred person of the emperor 
fled at my approach. 

The count then, at the request of Hfldegardis, related 
the heroic deed in detail, and it appeared that Edwald had 
not only saved the emperor from the most threatening 
danger, but also, with the cool and bold mind of a general, 
had soon after gained the decisive victory which had ter- 
minated the war. 

Surprise at first sealed every lip, and even before con- 
gratulations could be expressed, Hildegardis turned toward 
Edwald and said in a low tone which, however, in the 
silence, was audible to all: The noble count has expressed 
the wish of my imperial uncle, and I will conceal it no 
longer, that the wish of my own heart is the same — I am 
Duke Edwald's bride. So saying, she held out to him 
her fair right hand, and all present only waited for him to 
take it before they burst forth in a loud shout of congratu- 
lation. But Edwald did not do as they had expected ; 
sinking down on one knee before his mistress, he said : 

God forbid that the honorable Hildegardis should ever 
retract a word solemnly spoken before knights and dames. 
To no vanquished knight, you said, might the hand of the 
emperor’s niece belong, and there stands Erode, the noble 
Danish knight, my conqueror.” 

Hildegardis turned tremblingly away, with a slight 
blush, and hid her eyes; and as Edwald rose, it seemed as 
if a tear were trickling down his cheek. 

Clattering in his armor. Erode strode into the middle of 
the hall, exclaiming: I declare my late victory over Duke 
Edwald to have been the mere chance of fortune, and I 
challenge the knightly hero to meet me to-morrow once 
again in the lists.” And as he spoke he threw his brazen 
gauntlet ringing on the floor. 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT. 


185 


But Edwald moved not to take it up. A glow of crim- 
son anger overspread his cheeks, and his eves sparkled with 
indignation, so that his friend would scarcely have recog- 
nized him. After a pause of some minutes he said : 
“ Noble knight, Sir Erode, if I have ever offended you, we 
are now even. How dare you, a hero gloriously wounded 
with two sword-strokes, challenge a sound man to meet you 
in the lists to-morrow unless you despise hirn?'^ 

“ Pardon me, duke,” replied Erode, somewhat abashed 
but very cheerfully. “ I have spoken too boldly. I will 
summon you when I am completely cured.” 

Edwald then took up the gauntlet gladly, and again 
knelt before Hildegardis, who, with averted face gave him 
her hand to kiss; then taking the arm of his noble Danish 
friend he walked out of the hall. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

While Frode^s wounds were healing, Edwald would 
wander sometimes, when everything was wrapt in the deep 
calm of evening, on the flowery terraces under the windows 
of Hildegardis, singing graceful little songs. Among 
others he sang the following: 

“ Heal fast, ye hero- wounds! 

Be strong once more, brave knight! 

Oh tarry not too long! 

To meet me in the fight!” 

But that one, which the maidens in the castle liked best 
to sing after him, was this: 

“ I would that I were lying. 

By some hero slain! 

I would that love’s soft sighing 
Called me to life again ! 

I would I were possessing 
Imperial wealth and power! 


186 


ASLA U0A^8 KNIGHT, 


“ I would my steps were pressing 
In some wild woodland bower! 

I would I were an anchorite, 

Or a squire in royal train; 

Or that I were that honored knight 
Whose suit were not in vain!” 

It was perhaps the longest song which Edwald had ever 
sung in all his life. 

At this time it happened that a man who was consid- 
ered very wise, and who filled the office of secretary with 
the old duke, the guardian of Hildegardis, went to the 
two knightly friends, to make, as he said, a humble pro- 
posal to them. 

The matter, briefiy stated, was this — that as Erode could 
not possibly gain any advantage from the victory, he 
might in the approaching combat contrive to fall from his 
horse, and in this way secure the lady for his comrade, at 
the same time fulfilling the wish of his imperial majesty 
which would hereafter be sure to be gratefully acknowl- 
edged in various ways. 

The two friends at first laughed heartily at this proposal, 
and then Erode turned gravely toward the secretary and 
said: My friend, if the old duke knew of thy folly, he 

would, it is to be hoped, drive thee from his service, for 
thus talking of the emperor. This one little saying you 
had better learn by heart: 

“ When first tbe knigbt bis saddle prest, 

Then there was no more talk of jest; 

When lance meets lance in deadly fray, 

The world has little left to say. 

And the fellow who ventures to interpose, 

The chances are he will lose his nose.” 

Good-night, dear sir; and you may rest assured that 
when Edwald and I meet each other, it will be with all our 
heart and strength.” 


ASIA UGA-'S KNIGHT. 


187 

The secretary hastened out of the room, and even on the 
next morning looked unusually pale. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Soon after this. Erode had recovered from his wounds; 
the course was prepared as before, only it was crowded by 
a still greater number of spectators; and in the freshness 
of a dewy morning the two heroes rode solemnly together 
to the combat. 

Beloved Edwald,^^ said Erode softly as they went along, 

compose yourself beforehand, for also to-day the victory 
cannot be yours. On yonder rose-colored cloud Aslauga 
rests.” 

It may be so,” replied Edwald, quietly smiling; but 
under that labyrinth of golden arches shines Hildegardis, 
and to-day she has not been waited for.” 

The knights took their places, the trumpets sounded, 
and the course began. Erode's prophecy seemed about to 
be fulfilled, for Edwald staggered so beneath his stroke 
that he dropped his bridle; but seizing the mane with both 
hands he recovered his balance, while his wild and snow- 
white steed bore him across the course at a furious pace. 
Hildegardis, too, seemed to shrink at this sight, but the 
youth at length reined in his horse, and the second course 
was begun. 

Erode shot like lightning across the plain, and the suc- 
cess of the young duke seemed hopeless. But in the 
encounter the horse of the bold Dane reared and plunged, 
the rider staggered, his thrust passed harmless by, and both 
steed and knight fell clashing over each other before Ed- 
wald’s steadfast spear, and lay as if stunned upon the 
field. 

Edwald now did as Erode had done before. In accord- 


188 


ASLAUOA^S KNIGHT, 


ance with chivalric custom he remained for a while upon 
the spot, as if waiting to see if any adversary would dis- 
pute his victory; then he sprang from his horse and flew to 
the help of his fallen friend. 

Eagerly he labored to draw him from the weight of his 
horse, and Erode, soon reviving, aided in extricating him- 
self, and raised his charger also. Then he lifted up his 
visor and smiled kindly at his conqueror, though his face 
was deadly pale. The victor bowed humbly, almost bash- 
fully, and said: ^^You, my knight, overthrown! And by 
me! I do not understand it.^^ 

It was her own will,” answered Erode, smiling. 

Come up now to your lovely bride.” 

Loudly shouted the multitude around, the dames and 
the knights bowed low as the old duke led forward the 
handsome bridal pair, and they both at his bidding em- 
braced each other, with many blushes, beneath the leafy 
garlands of the golden bower. 

That very day they were solemnly united in the castle 
chapel, at Erode^s urgent request. A Journey into a far 
distant land, he said, lay before him, and he wished to be 
present at the marriage of his friend before he left. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The torches were burning brightly in the vaulted halls 
of the castle; Hildegardis had just left her husband’s arm 
to begin a dance of honor with the aged duke, when Ed- 
wald beckoned to his knightly comrade, and both passed 
out together into the moonlit castle-garden. 

^^Ah, Erode, my noble, glorious hero,” exclaimed 
Edwald, after a short silence, were you only as happy as I 
am! But your eyes rest seriously and thoughtfully on the 
ground, or glow with an almost impatient glance upward. 


A8LA VGA'S KNIGHT. 


189 


It would be terrible if you really cherished a secret wish 
in your heart to wed Hildegardis, and I, a foolish child, 
favored so mysteriously, stood in your wayP^ 

Be quiet, Eddy,” said the Danish hero, with a smile. 

On my knightly word, my thoughts and longings con- 
. cern not your fair Hildegardis. Brighter than ever, 
Aslauga’s golden image shines within my heart. Listen to 
me, and I will tell you: 

Just as we met together in the course — oh ! that I 
had words to express to you all that happened! — I was en- 
wrapped, encircled and dazzled by Aslauga's golden hair, 
in which I suddenly floated — my noble steed too must have 
seen the apparition, for I felt him start and rear under me. 
I saw you no more, I saw the world no more; Aslauga^s 
angelic face was alone quite close before me, smiling and 
blooming like a flower in a sea of sunlight in which it was 
bathed. My senses failed me. It was only when you 
extricated me from beneath my horse that I returned to 
consciousness, and I knew to my great joy that her own 
gracious will had struck me to the ground. I felt, how- 
ever, a strange weariness, far more than the mere conse- 
quence of my fall, and at the same time it seemed to me as 
if very shortly mj^ mistress would send me on a distant 
mission. I hastened to repose myself in my chamber and 
a deep sleep at once overcame me. Then Aslauga appeared 
to me in a dream, royally adorned as ever, placed herself at 
the head of my couch, and said: ^Hasten to attire thyself 
in all the splendor of thy silver armor, for thou art not 
only a wedding-guest, thou art also the ^ 

^^And before she had flnished speaking, my dream 
melted, as it were, away, and I felt urgent to follow her 
gentle command, and was full of joy. But now, in the 
midst of the festival itself, I seem to myself lonel}^ as I 
have never felt in my life, and I cannot cease thinking 
what the unfinished words of my mistress really intended 
to announce.” 


190 


ASLAUOA^S KNIGHT, 


Yon are of a far nobler mind, Erode, than 1 /^ said 
Edwald, after a short silence; ^‘and I cannot, therefore, 
soar with you into your joys. Tell me, though, has it never 
awakened a deep pang within you, that you serve a mis- 
tress so distant from you — alas! a mistress for the most 
part ever invisible to you 

•^No, Edwald; not so,” replied Erode, with a counte- 
nance radiant with happiness. 1 know well that she does 
not disdain my service, and I am at times vouchsafed a 
vision of her. Oh! I am indeed a happy knight and 
minstrel!” 

And yet your silence to-day, your sad longings?” 

^^Not sad, dear Eddy; only so fervent, so deep within 
my heart, and so strangely mysterious. But this, like 
everything I feel, springs from these very words and com- 
mands of Aslauga; how can it then be anything but beau- 
tiful and tending to a high and glorious aim?” 

A squire, who had been despatched to them, announced 
that they were awaiting the princely bridegroom for the 
torch-dance ; and Edwald begged his friend, as they 
went, to take his place in the solemn dance immediately 
behind himself and Hildegardis. Erode assented with a 
friendly nod. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The horns and hautboys had already given forth their 
solemn sound; Edwald hastened to offer his hand to his 
fair bride, and as he advanced with her into the center of 
the splendid hall. Erode invited a noble lady who stood 
next him, but without further observing her, to be his 
partner in the torch-dance, and he led her to the next place 
behind the wedded pair. 

But how did he feel when a light began to beam from 


A8LAUGA\^ KNIGHT. 


191 


his companion, a light so bright that his own torch was 
pale beside it! He scarcely ventured in sweet and trembling 
hope to cast a glance at the lady, and when he at length 
did so, his boldest desires and longing were fulfilled. 
Adorned with a glittering bridal crown set with emeralds, 
Aslauga danced in solemn loveliness by his side, and 
beamed on him from the sunny light of her golden hair, 
with a heavenly and enchanting air. 

The astonished spectators could not turn their eyes from 
the mysterious pair — the hero in his bright silver armor, 
with his torch uplifted, moving with a measured step, and 
with a serious and yet joyful mien, as though he were 
engaged in some deep and secret ceremony; the lady by 
his side, floating rather than dancing, emitting light from 
her golden hair, so that one might almost have imagined 
that day was shining in the night, and when an eye 
could reach her face through all the rich glimmer that 
surrounded it, the unspeakably sweet smile upon the 
features delighted heart and sense. 

Toward the end of the dance she bowed graciously to 
Erode, and whispered to him with an air of confidence, 
and with the last sound of the horns and hautboys she 
had vanished. 

None of the most curious of the company had the 
courage to question the Danish knight about his partner, 
and Hildegardis did not seem to have perceived the 
stranger’s presence. But shortly before the close of the 
festival Edwald approached his friend, and asked in a low 
tone: Was it ” 

‘‘Yes, dear youth,” answered Erode, “your wedding- 
dance has been brightened by the presence of the noblest 
beauty to be seen in any laud. Ah! and if 1 have rightly 
heard her whispers, you will never more see me stand 
sighing and gazing on the ground. But I scarcely venture 
to hope it. Now, good-night, dear Eddy, good-night. As 
soon as I may, you shall hear everything.” 


192 


ASLAUGA^S KNIGHT, 


CHAPTEE XVIL 

The light and happy dreams of morning were still float' 
ing before Edwald, and it seemed to him as if a bright 
sunbeam were playing round his head. He remembered 
Aslauga; but it was not she, it was Erode, whose helmet 
of golden locks now glittered no less brightly than his 
lady^s flowing hair. ^‘^Ah!^^ thought Edwald in his 
dream, ^Miow beautiful has my dear comrade-in-arms 
become \” 

And Erode said to him: I will sing something to you, 
Eddy; softly, so softly, that it may not awaken Hilde- 
gardis. Listen to me: 

“ Slie is come, briglit as tlie day, 

There, where the knight in slumber lay. 

Holding in her snow-white hand, 

A plaything, like a moonlit band; 

And round them both as a circling zone. 

She twined it, singing: ‘ we are one,’ 

The world lay dark and dreary round. 

As she raised him lifeless from the ground. 

And he stood in a garden, fair to the eyes, 

And the angels called it Paradise.” 

You have never sung so sweetly in your life;” said the 
half-dreaming youth. 

That may well be, Eddy,” said Erode, with a smile, 
and disappeared. But Edwald went on dreaming, and 
many other visions passed before him, all of a very pleas- 
ing kind, although he could not recall them to mind 
when he opened his eyes, smilingly, on the following 
morning. Erode alone and his wonderful song stood 
clearly in his memory. He now well knew that his friend 
was dead, but he could feel no sorrow, conscious as he was 
that the pure spirit of the hero and minstrel could alone 
find its true joy in the garden of Paradise, and in blissful 


A8LA UGA'S KNIGHT, 


193 


intercourse with the noble spirits of antiquity. Softly he 
glided from the slumbering Hildegardis to the chamber of 
the dead. He lay upon his bed of rest, almost as beauti- 
ful as he had appeared in the dream, and the golden hel- 
met on his head was entwined with a wonderfully shining 
lock of hair. Then Edwald made a fair and sheltered 
grave in consecrated ground, summoned the chaplain of 
the castle, and with his help laid his beloved Erode 
within it. 

He came back, just as Hildegardis awoke, and when, as- 
tonished at his chastened joy, she humbly asked him 
where he had been so early, he replied smilingly: I have 
just buried my dearly-loved Erode, who, this very night, 
has gone to his golden-haired mistress.^^ 

Then he told Hildegardis the whole story of Aslauga^s 
knight, and he lived on in calm undisturbed happiness, 
though for a time somewhat more silent than before. 

He was often to be found sitting on the grave of his 
friend, singing the following song to his lute: 

“ Aslauga’s faithful knight! 

How dance the glad throng. 

To celestial song, 

In groves that are golden bright! 

“ Send to us from on high, 

Vouchsafe us from the sky, 

Many a heavenly gleam, 

Many a blessed dream, 

Aslauga’s faithful knight!” 


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SiNTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

A NORTHERN ROMANCE 

AFTER 


ALBERT DURER. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

In’ the high castle of Drontheim many northern knights 
were assembled to hold council for the welfare of the 
realm, and were now carousing merrily together far into 
the night, around the huge stone table in the vaulted and 
echoing hall. 

The rising storm drove the snow wildly against the rat- 
tling windows, all of the oaken panels of the doors groaned, 
the massive looks shook, and the castle-clock, after much 
preliminary noise, struck the hour of one. 

Just then, a boy, pale as death, with disordered hair 
and closed eyes, rushed into the hall uttering a scream of 
terror. He stopped behind the ornamented seat of the 
mighty Knight Biorn, clung to the glittering hero with 
both his hands, and cried with a piercing voice: “ Knight 
and Father! Father and Knight! Death and some one else 
are close behind me!” 

A fearful stillness lay freezingly over the whole assem- 
bly, save that the boy continued screaming the terrible 
words. 

But an old trooper, one of the Knight Biorn^s numerous 
retainers, surnamed Rolf the Good, stepped forth toward 
the wailing child, took him in his arms, and sang as if in 
prayer: 

“ Help, Father mine. 

This child of Thine !’» 

The boy, as if dreaming, at once loosened his hold of the 


198 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


great Knight Biorn, and Rolf the Good bore him like a 
feather out of the hall, though the hot tears were still fall- 
ing, and there was a continued gentle murmur. 

The lords and knights looked at each other in amaze- 
ment. 

Presently the mighty Biorn, with a wild and fierce laugh, 
said: ‘^Do not allow yourselves to be misled by the fancies 
of a boy. He is my only son, and he has gone on in this 
way since he was five years old; he is now twelve, I am 
well accustomed to it therefore, though at first it made me 
also rather uneasy. It only happens once every year, and 
always about this time. But pardon me, for having ex- 
pended so many words on my poor Sintram, and start 
some subject more worthy of our discourse.” 

There was again a silence. Then here and there a single 
voice began falteringly and softly to renew the broken 
thread of conversation, but without success. Two of the 
youngest and merriest knights began a roundelay; but the 
storm howled and whistled and raged so strangely that 
this also was soon interrupted. 

Then they all sat silent and almost motionless in the 
lofty hall; the lamp flickered dimly from the vaulted roof; 
the whole knightly assembly were like pale lifeless 
images, dressed up in gigantic armor. 

Then the chaplain of the castle of Drontheim arose — he 
was the only ecclesiastic in the whole knightly circle — and 
said: 

^"Dear Sir Biorn, once again our attention has been 
directed to you and your son in a wonderful manner, 
decreed most surely by God. You see that we cannot 
divert our minds from the circumstance, and you would 
do better to tell us exactly what you know of your boy^s 
wonderful condition. Possibly the solemn account, which 
I anticipate, might be salutary for this somewhat wild 
assembly.” 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


199 


Knight Biorn looked with displeasure at the priest, and 
replied: Sir chaplain, you have more share in the his- 

tory than either you or I could desire. Let us not 
impose so sad a tale on these merry Norwegian warriors.” 

The chaplain, however, approached nearer the knight, 
and with an air of great firmness, but in a gentle tone, 
said: Dear sir, hitherto it rested with you, and with you 

alone, to relate or not to relate the story; now, since you 
have so strangely alluded to my share in your son's mis- 
fortune, I must positively demand of you that you will 
inform us word for word how it has all happened. My 
honor requires it, and this you will see as plainly as I do 
myself.” 

Sternly but assentingly, Biorn bowed his haughty head, 
and began the following narration: 

It is seven years ago, since I was keeping the Christ- 
mas festival with all my assembled retainers. There are 
many ancient venerable customs, which have been trans- 
mitted to us as a heritage from our great ancestors; as, 
for instance, that of placing on the board a beautiful 
golden hoar, and making all sorts of chivalric and merry 
promises upon it. The chaplain here, who at that time 
used frequently to visit me, was never a great friend to 
these remnants of the old heathen ages. Such men as he 
were not held in high importance in those olden times.” 

My excellent predecessors,” interrupted the chaplain, 
adhered to God more than to the world, and by God they 
were held in esteem. In this manner they converted your 
ancestors, and if I can be of similar service to you, even 
your ridicule will not affect my heart.” 

AVith a look still darker, and an air of angry dread, the 
knight continued: Yes, yes; promises resting on some 
invisible Power, and threats too! And so we suffer to be 
taken from us the good which is visible and certain! At 
that time, ah, then indeed, I still had such! Strange! 


200 


SINTEAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


Sometimes it comes before me as if it were centuries ago, 
and as if I were some old man who had outlived every- 
thing, so fearfully is everything changed. But now I 
bethink me, the greater part of tnis noble Round Table 
have visited me in my days of happiness, and have known 
Verena, my lovely wife 

He pressed his hands before his face, and it seemed as 
though he wept. The storm had ceased; soft moonbeams 
shone through the windows, and played as if with kindly 
and caressing touch around Biorn’s wild figure. 

Suddenly he rose, so that his armor clattered fearfully, 
and he cried out with a thundering voice: Shall I turn 
monk perhaps; as she has become a nun? No, crafty 
chaplain; your webs are too thin to catch fiies of mysort!’^ 
know nothing of webs,^’ said the reverend man. 
‘^Honestly and openly I have placed Heaven and Hell 
before you during six years, and you consented to the 
step which the pious Verena took. But how all this is 
connected with your son’s sutferings, I do not know, and I 
wait your narration.” 

'^You may wait long enough!” said Biorn, with an 

angry laugh. Sooner shall ” 

Swear not!” said the chaplain, in a tone of command, 
and with eyes that flashed fearfully. 

Hurra!” exclaimed Biorn, in wild affright. Hurra! 
Death and his companions are loose!” And he dashed out 
of the chamber in a fury, down the steps; and outside the 
rough and terrible notes of his horn gave a summons to his 
retainers, who soon afterward were heard galloping away 
over the frozen court-yard. 

The knights dispersed silently and almost fearfully; and 
the chaplain remained alone at the huge stone table, praying. 


SIN TRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


201 


CHAPTER II. 

After some time Rolf the Good returned slowly and 
softly, and stood with amazement at finding the hall de- 
serted. In the remote chamber, in which he had been 
quieting the child, he had heard nothing of the knighPs 
wild departure. The chaplain informed him of what had 
occurred, and then said: 

But, dear Rolf, I should like to ask you about the 
strange words with which you again lulled poor Sintram to 
rest. They sounded so pious, and no doubt were so, and 
yet I did not understand them: 

“ ‘ I can, and yet cannot believe.’ ” 

‘‘Reverend sir,” replied Rolf. “From my very child- 
hood, I remember that none of the beautiful stories in the 
gospel has taken such powerful hold upon me, as that one 
in which the disciples were not able to heal the child pos- 
sessed with the devil, and the Saviour at length came down 
from the mountain where he had been transfigured, and 
tore asunder the bonds wherewith the evil spirit had held 
the happy child fast bound. It always seemed to me as if 
I must have known and cared for that boy, and have been 
his play-fellow in days of health. And when I grew into 
years, the distress of the father on account of his lunatic 
son lay heavy on my heart. All this must have been a 
sort of foreboding of our poor Lord Sintram, whom I love 
like my own child, and now my heart oftentimes gives 
vent to the words of the weeping father in the Gospel: 
‘Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief;^ and something 
similar I may have sung or prayed to-day in my anxiety. 
Dear reverend sir, all seems dark to my mind sometimes, 
when I consider how one fearful imprecation of the father 
can so cleave to that poor child, but, thank God! my 
faith and my hope are fixed above.” 


202 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Dear Eolf/^ said the holy man, I can only partly 
understand all that you say of the poor Sintrara, for 1 am 
ignorant when and how this affliction befell him. If your 
lips are bound by no oath, nor solemn word, tell me all 
that is connected with it.'’^ 

Gladly, replied Kolf. I have long desired to do so. 
But you have been almost entirely separated from us. 
Just now I dare not leave my sleeping young master any 
longer alone, and to-morrow, as early as possible, 1 must 
take him to his father. Will you, perhaps, dear sir, come 
with me to our poor Sintram?” 

The chaplain at once took up the small lamp which Rolf 
had brought with him, and they went together through 
the long vaulted passage. 

In the small Temote chamber they found the poor boy 
fast asleep. The light of the lamp fell strangely on his 
pallid features. The chaplain stood for some time gazing 
at him thoughtfully, and at last he said: 

^Tt is true, from his birth he has had sharp and strongly 
marked features, but now they look almost fearfully so for 
such a child. And yet one must have a kindly feeling 
toward him, as he lies sleeping there so soundly, whether 
one will or not.^^ 

Quite so, reverend sir,” replied Rolf; and it was 
evident how his whole heart rejoiced, when any word was 
uttered in favor of his dear young lord. He then placed 
the light so that it could not disturb the boy, and conduct- 
ing the holy father to a comfortable seat, he took his place 
opposite to him, and began to speak as follows: 

‘^At that Christmas feast, of which my lord was talking 
to you, there was a great deal of discourse between him 
and his retainers, with regard to the German merchants, 
and how the increasing pride and power of the trading 
towns was to be kept down. Then Biorn stretched out 
his hand upon that impious golden boar, and swore to put 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


203 


to death without mercy every German trader whom fate, 
in what way soever, might cast alive into his power. The 
gentle Verena turned pale, and would have interposed, hut 
it was too late, for the bloody oath was pronounced And 
immediately, as if the prince of evil were resolved at once 
to grasp with strong bonds the vassal who had thus out- 
lawed himself from the good, a warder entered the hall, 
and announced that two citizens from some German 
trading town, an old man and his son, had been cast 
ashore here, and stood without, craving the hospitality of 
the lord of the castle. This tidings powerfully affected 
the knight, still he felt himself bound by his over-hasty 
vow and by that accursed heathenish boar of gold. We, 
his squires, received orders to assemble in the castle-yard 
with our sharply pointed lances and to aim them at the 
poor defenceless strangers at a given sign. For the first 
time, and I hope for the last time, in my life, I said nay 
to the orders of my lord. And I uttered it aloud and with 
hearty determination. The good God, who must certainly 
know best whom He will accept and whom He will not, 
armed me with resolution and strength. And you see, 
Knight Biorn may have perceived whence the opposition of 
his old servant arose, and that it was to be respected. 
Half in anger and half in ridicule, he said : ^Go up to my 
wife^s apartments yonder. Her maidens are running anx- 
iously to and fro; she may be unwell. Go up, Rolf the 
Good, I tell thee; thus women shall be with women. ^ 

‘ You may ridicule, if you like,^ I thought ; and I went 
silently in the direction pointed out to me. On the stairs 
I met two strange and fearful beings, whom I had never 
seen before; I do not know either how they had got into 
the castle. One was a great tall man, who looked terribly 
pale and very thin ; the other was a little man with 
most hideous features and appearance. Indeed when I 
collected myself and looked carefully at him, he seemed 
to me truly — — 


204 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


A slight moaning and convulsive movement of the boy 
interrupted the narration. Hastening to him, Eolf and 
the chaplain saw an expression of fearful agony on his 
countenance, and that his eyes were struggling to open and 
could not. The holy father made the sign of the cross 
over him; and by degrees the strange state relaxed, the 
child slept calml}', and they both returned softly back to 
their seats. 

You see,^^ said Eolf, ^^it is not well to describe more 
accurately those two fearful beings. It is sufficient to tell 
you that they proceeded down to the court yard, and I to 
the chambers of my mistress. The gentle Verena was 
indeed half-fainting with terrible anxiety, and I hastened 
to assist her with the little knowledge in the healing vir- 
tues of herbs and minerals which the good God has 
bestowed upon me. But scarcely had she revived, than 
with that calm holy power, which you know belongs to her, 
she ordered me to conduct her down to the court-yard, 
saying that she must either put a stop to the horrors of 
this night or herself perish. We had to pass by the little bed 
of the sleeping Sintram; alas! hot tears fell from my eyes 
when I saw him lying there so calmly and quietly, and 
smiling in his peaceful slumbers.” 

The old trooper put his hand to his eyes, and wept bit- 
terly. Then in a more collected manner he continued: 

We approached the windows of the last flight of steps; 
here we could distinctly perceive the voice of the eldest of 
the two merchants, and through the panes, by the torch- 
light, we could see his noble countenance, and by his side 
the youthful head of his son. ^ I call Almighty God to 
witness,^ he exclaimed, ^ that I intended no evil against 
this house! But I must have fallen among heathens, 
instead of coming to a Christian knighCs castle, and if it 
be so, thrust at us at once; and thou, my beloved son, die 
patiently and steadfastly; we shall know in heaven where- 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


205 


fore it could not be otherwise/ It seemed to me as if I saw 
those two fearful forms amid the crowd of retainers. The 
pale one had a huge sword like a sickle in his hand, the 
little one held a spear, strangely notched. Verena tore 
open the window, and cried into the wild night, with her 
flute-like voice: ‘My dearest lord and husband, for the sake 
of our child, have pity on those good men! Save them 
from death, and resist the temptations of the evil spirit 1’ 
The knight answered in his fury — I cannot repeat his 
words. He staked his child’s life, he called Death and the 
devil to witness, if he did not keep his word — hush! the 
boy is starting again. Let me bring this dark narration 
briefly to an end. Knight Biorn ordered his followers to 
strike, and gave the sign with eyes that sparkled so fiercely 
that he has ever since been called Biorn of the Fiery Eyes; 
at the same time, the two fearful strangers appeared very 
busy. Then Verena called out with piercing anguish: 
‘Help, 0 God, my Saviour/ And the two fearful figures 
disappeared, and wildly, as if blinded, the knight and his 
retainers rushed against each other, without doing injury 
to themselves, but also without being able to strike the 
defenceless merchants. The latter bowed reverently to 
Verena, and, as if in silent prayer, passed out of the castle 
gates, which just now, bursting open with a gust of stormy 
wind left the passage into the mountains open. 

“The lady and I stood on the stairs as if bewildered; 
then it seemed to me as if I saw the two terrible figures 
gliding past me softly and mist-like, but Verena called out 
to me: ‘ Kolf, did you see the tall pale man and the little 
hideous one, hurrying up the staircase?^ I flew after them; 
and, alas! I found the poor boy in just that state in which 
you saw him a few hours ago. Since then, the attack 
aivvays returns about this time, and the young master is 
altogether fearfully changed. The lady of the castle saw 
i*i LliG whole occurrence the visible punishment and asser- 


206 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


tion of the powers of Heaven, and as the Knight Biorn, 
instead of repenting, ever became more and more Biorn of 
the Fiery Eyes, she resolved to retire to a cloister, where 
solitary and alone she could pray for the eternal happiness 
and temporal deliverance of herself and her poor child 
Rolf paused, and the chaplain, after some reflection, 
said: I can now understand why, six years ago, Biorn 

confessed his sinfulness to me without more comment, and 
consented that his wife should take the veil. Some rem- 
nant of shame must then have stirred within him, and 
perhaps it stirs within him yet. At all events, so tender a 
flower as Verena was not fit to remain longer in such a 
tempestuous atmosphere. But who is there now to watch 
over and protect the poor Sintram?’^ 

The prayers of his mother,^’ replied Rolf. Reverend 
sir, when the early light of morning spreads over the sky, 
as it now does, and the morning breezes whisper through 
the gleaming window — it always seems to me as if I were 
looking at the beaming eyes of my mistress, and as if I 
heard the sweet tones of her voice. The holy Verena, next 
to God, is our help.” 

And our devout supplications to the Lord, also,” added 
the chaplain; and he and Rolf knelt in the early morning 
in silent and fervent prayer by the bed of the pale boy, 
who began to smile in his dreams. 


GHAPTER III. 

The sun was shining brightly into the room, when Sin- 
tram, awakened by its rays, started up. He looked 
angrily at the chaplain, and said: "‘So there is a priest 
in the castle? And yet that wicked dream dares to 
torment me in his very presence? He must be a pretty 
priest!” 


SINTRAM AND 1118 COMPAmom. 207 

child/^ replied the chaplain, with great gentleness, 

I have prayed very heartily for thee, and will never cease 
to do so, but God alone is almighty/^ 

''You speak very familiarly to the son of the Knight 
Bidrnr cried Sintram. My child! and thee! If those 
horrible dreams had not again been haunting me, you 
would make me laugh heartily/^ 

"Young Lord Sintram !’’ said the chaplain, "that you 
do not know me again, in no way surprises me; for, in 
truth, I do not know you again/^ And his eyes were moist 
with tears as he spoke. 

Rolf the Good, however, looked sorrowfully in the boy’s 
face, saying: '• Ah, dear young lord, you are so much 
better than you assume to be; why do you do so? And do 
you not really recollect any longer — for your memory is 
generally so good — the good kind chaplain, who used to 
come so often to our castle and give you bright pictures of 
saints and beautiful songs?” 

" I remember that well,” replied Sintram, thoughtfully. 
"My sainted mother was alive then.” 

" Our gracious lady is still living, God be praised !” said 
Rolf, smiling. 

" Not for us — not for us sick creatures!” exclaimed Sin- 
tram. " And why will you not call her sainted ? She 
surely knows nothing of my dreams!” 

"Yes, she does know of them, young master!” said the 
chaplain. " She knows of them and supplicates God for 
you. But take heed of that wild haughty temper of yours. 
It might, alas! it might some day be that she might know 
nothing of your dreams. And that would be if you were 
cast out body and soul; then the holy angels also would 
know nothing more of you.” 

Sintram sank back on his bed as if thunderstruck, and 
Rolf said, softly, with a sigh: " You must not speak to my 
sick child with such severity, reverend sir.” 


208 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


The boy raised himself again, and turning with tearful 
eyes to the chaplain, said: Let him go on, good tender- 
hearted Eolf; he knows very well what he is about. Would 
you reprove him if I were slipping down into a snow-cleft, 
and he drew me roughly out by the hair of my head 

The holy father looked at him with emotion and was on 
the point of giving utterance to some pious thoughts when 
Sintrarn sprang from the bed and asked for his father. On 
being told that he had left, he would not remain an hour 
longer in the castle, and set aside the fears of the chaplain 
and the old trooper, who doubted whether so rapid a jour- 
ney might not prove injurious to his scarcely recovered 
health, by saying to them: 

Eeverend sir, and you, dear old Rolf, only believe me 
that if I had no dreams I should be the quietest boy on the 
face of the earth, and even as it is, I am not far behind the 
best. Besides, a year hence and my dreams will be at an 
end.^' 

On a somewhat imperious sign from the youth, Rolf soon 
brought out the horses. The boy sprang boldly into the 
saddle, and bidding the chaplain a courteous adieu, dashed 
away with the speed of an arrow along the frozen valleys of 
the snow-covered mountains. 

He had not ridden far with his old trooper when he 
heard a hollow sound coming from a neighboring rocky 
cleft; the sound was like the clapper of a mill, but it was 
intermingled with groans and tones of distress proceeding 
from a human voice. They turned their horses in the 
direction of the noise and a wonderful sight was revealed 
to them. 

A tall man, deadly pale, in a pilgrim’s garb, was vainly 
using all his efforts to work his way up the mountain out 
of the deep snow, and in so doing a mass of bones kept rat- 
tling, which he wore hanging loosely from his white gar- 
ment, and this had produced the mysterious knocking 
above mentioned. 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMD ANIONS. . 


209 


Rolf, startled at the apparition, crossed himself, and the 
bold Siiitram called out to the stranger: What are you 
doing there? Give an account of your solitary labor!^^ 

“ I live in dying/' replied the other with a fearful grin. 

“ Whose are those bones on your garments?" 

They are relics, young sir." 

Then you are a pilgrim?" 

Restless, reposeless; to and fro in the earth." 

You must not perish here in the snow before my 
eyes." 

I do not wish to do so." 

You must mount my horse and ride with me." 

I will do so." 

And at once he extricated himself from the snow with 
unexpected strength and agility, and sat behind Sintram 
on his horse, clasping him tight with his long arms. The 
horse, frightened at the rattling of the bones, and as if 
seized with madness, galloped away through the trackless 
valleys. The boy soon found himself alone with his strange 
companion; far in the distance Rolf spurred on his panting 
horse in vain pursuit. 

Down a snowy precipice, gliding rather than falling, 
Sintram's horse reached a narrow gorge, and though some- 
what exhausted, the animal continued to snort and foam as 
before; the boy was still unable to master it, yet it changed 
its breathless course into a wild, irregular trot, and the 
following conversation began between Sintram and the 
stranger: 

^^Thou pale man, draw thy garments closer; the bones 
would not rattle then, and I could curb my horse." 

I/s no use, my boy, it's no use; it belongs to the 
nature of the bones." 

Don't clasp me so tight with thy long arms. Thy arms 
are so cold." 

“It can't be helped, my boy; it can't be helped. Be 


210 8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

content. My long cold arms are not yet pressing on thy 
heart.” 

Do not breathe on me so with thy icy breath. It takes 
all my strength away.” 

I must breathe, my boy; I must breathe. But do not 
complain. I am not breathing thee away.” 

The strange dialogue ended; for, contrary to his expec- 
tation, Sintram came out upon an open snowy plain, on 
which the sun was shining brightly, and at no great dis- 
tance before him he saw his father’s castle. While he was 
considering whether to invite the mysterious pilgrim to 
enter, all doubt was removed by the latter throwing him- 
self suddenly from the horse, which halted in its wild 
career. Then he turned to the boy and said, raising his 
forefinger: 

know old Bibrn of the Fiery Eyes very well; perhaps 
only too well. Remember me to him. He need not know 
my name. He will recognize me by description.” 

So saying, the pale stranger turned into a thick grove 
of firs and disappeared, rattling among the intertwined 
branches. 

Slowly and thoughtfully Sintram rode on toward his 
father’s castle, for his much exhausted horse had now be- 
come quite quiet. He scarcely knew what he ought to tell 
of his wonderful journey, and what not; moreover, his 
heart was oppressed with anxiety for the good Rolf, whom 
he had left behind. 

Presently he found himself at the castle gate, before he 
had fully thought over the matter. The draw-bridge was 
lowered, the portals were thrown open; a squire conducted 
the youth into the large hall, where Knight Bibrn was 
sitting all alone at a huge table, with many fiagons and 
drinking-glasses before him and suits of armor ranged 
around him. It was a sort of daily habit with him, by way 
of company, to have the armor of his ancestors, with closed 
visors, placed around his ta^le. 


SIHTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


211 


The father and son began to converse as follows: 

“ Where is Rolf ^ 

“ I don’t know, father. He left me in the mountains.” 

“ I will have Rolf shot for not taking better care of my 
only child.” 

“ Well then, father, you can have your only child shot 
too, for I could not live without Rolf ; and if an arrow 
or a dart is aimed at him, I will throw myself in the way 
of it, and shield his true and good heart with my fickle 
breast.” 

“ Indeed! Then Rolf shall not be shot, but I shall send 
him from the castle.” 

“ Well then, father, you will see me run away too; and 
I will serve him as his faithful squire in forest and mount- 
ain and fir-grove.” 

“Indeed! Then Rolf must remain here.” 

“That is just what I think, father.” 

“Did you ride quite alone?” 

“ Ko, father, but with a strange pilgrim; he said he 
knew you well, or perhaps too well.” 

And thereupon Sintram proceeded to relate and to 
describe everything respecting the pale man. “I also 
know him very well,” said Knight Biorn. “ He is half- 
crazed, and half-wise, as we have sometimes seen strangely 
blended together in people. But, my boy, go to rest now 
after your wild journey. You have my word of honor that 
Rolf shall be received well and kindly, and shall be even 
sought for in the mountains if he remain long absent.” 

“I rely upon you, father,” replied Sintram, in a tone 
half-humble, half-scornful, as he followed the orders of 
the gloomy lord of the castle. 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


m 


CHAPTER IV. 

Toward evening Sintram woke again. He saw the good 
Rolf sitting by his bedside, and he smiled with an air of 
unwonted child -like brightness at the kindly face of the 
true-hearted old man. Soon, however, his dark eyebrows . 
contracted again with a feeling of indignation, and he 
asked : 

^‘^How did my father receive you, Rolf ? Did he say a 
harsh word to you?^^ 

^^No, dear young master. He did not speak to me at 
all. At first he looked angrily at me; then he checked 
himself, and ordered a squire to bring me food and wine 
to refresh me, and afterward to conduct me to you.^^ 

He might have kept his word better. But he is my 
father, and I must make allowance. I will now go to the 
evening meal.’^ 

He sprang up at once and threw on his fur mantle. Bat 
Rolf cast himself entreatingly in his way, and said : 
^^Dear young master, you would do better to sup in your 
chamber to-day. There is a guest with your father, in 
whose company I do not like to see you. If you will stay 
here, I will sing you some beautiful songs." 

‘^I should have liked that beyond everything in the 
world, dear Rolf," replied Sintram. But it is not given 
me to avoid any man. Tell me, at any rate, whom should 
I find with my father?" 

/'Ah, young master," said the old man, "you have 
already met him in the mountains. Formerly when I 
used to ride out with the Knight Biorn, we met him occa- 
sionally; but I was not allowed to tell you anything about 
him, and to-day is the first time he has ever come to the 
castle." 

" Oh, iPs the crazy pilgrim!" replied Sintram, and he re- 


SINTRAM AND IIIS COMPANIONS. 


213 


iiuiiiied for some time in deep thought, as if considering 
the matter. At last he roused himself from his abstraction 
and said: “ You good old friend, I like far better to re- 
main quite alone with you this evening, and to hear your 
songs and stories; and all the pilgrims in the world should 
not entice me from this quiet room. There is only one 
thing which makes me hesitate. I have a kind of awe of 
that pale tall man, and no knight^s son may suffer such a 
feeling to master him. DonT be angry, Rolf, but I must 
positively look into the strange face of that pilgrim.^' 

And as he said this, he opened the door of his apartment, 
and with firm and ringing steps proceeded to the hall. 

The pilgrim and the Knight Biorn were sitting opposite 
to each other at the large table, on which many tapers were 
still burning; and it was strange to see those two tall pale 
figures move, and eat, and drink, among the lifeless armor 
that surrounded them. 

When the pilgrim looked up at the boy^s entrance, 
Knight Biorn said: “You know him already; he is my 
only child, and your fellow-traveler this morning.'’^ 

The pilgrim fixed his eye upon Sintram for some time, 
and then replied, shaking his head: “ That I didn't know 
till now!" 

Then the boy burst forth impatiently: “Now I must 
confess that you are most unfair! You say you believe you 
know my father only too well; and me, it seems, you know 
only too little. Look me in the face. Who was it allowed 
vou to ride on his horse with him, and whose good steed 
did you make almost wild in return? Speak, if you can!" 

Knight Biorn smiled and shook his head, but seemed 
well satisfied, as was his wont, with his son's wild behavior; 
the pilgrim, on the contrary, shuddered as if alarmed by 
the threatening presence of some fearful and irresistible 
power. At last, in an almost fearful tone, he brought out 
the words: “ Yes, yes, my dear young knight, you are per- 


214 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


fectly right; you are perfectly right in everything which it 
may please you to advance/^ 

The lord of the castle laughed aloud at this, and ex- 
claimed: ^MVhy, thou pilgrim, thou mysterious man, what 
is become of all thy strange sayings and fine warnings? 
Has the boy made thee all at once dumb and powerless? 
Beware, thou prophet-messenger, beware 

Blit the pilgrim cast a fearful look on the Knight Biorn, 
which almost threatened to extinguish the light of his 
fiery eyes, and said in a solemn and thundering voice: 

Between me and thee, old man, it is another thing. We 
have nothing to reproach each other with. And hearken: 
I will sing a song to thee on the lute.” He stretched out 
his hand to the wall, and took down a forgotten and half- 
strung lute which hung there; then placing it in order 
with wonderful power and skill, he touched a few chords, 
and began the following song to the deep and melancholy 
tones of the instrument: 

“ The flower was mine, it was mine own! 

But I trifled with my sacred right, 

I became a slave and not a knight. 

Through sin, through sin alone. 

The flower was thine, it was thine own! 

Why didst thou not hold fast thy right ? 

Thou slave of sin — no longer knight! 

Now thou art fearfully alone!” 

Beware!” cried he, with a shrill voice as he concluded, 
at the same time pulling the strings so violently that they 
all broke with a plaintive wail, and a cloud of dust rose 
strangely from the old lute, enveloping the singer as in a 
mist. 

Sintram had been watching him keenly during the song, 
and it appeared to him at last inconceivable that this man 
and his fellow-traveler could be one and the same. Indeed, 
the doubt rose almost to certainty when the stranger again 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


215 


looked at him with a sort of timid fear, and making many 
excuses and low reverences, hnng the lute in its old place, 
and then ran fearfull}’^ out of the hall; affording in every 
look and action a strange contrast to the haughty solemn 
air he had assumed toward the Knight Biorn. 

The boy's eye now fell upon the knight, and he saw 
that he had fallen back on his seat senseless, as if struck 
by a blow. Sintram's cries called the good Rolf and other 
attendants to the hall; and after much care and united 
effort, they succeeded in reviving the lord of the castle, 
though his looks still remained wild and excited, and he 
allowed himself to be put to rest quietly and submissively. 


CHAPTER V. 

This strange attack was followed by an illness, in which 
the hitherto robust old knight was constantly delirous, 
though he asserted all the while that he must and should 
recover. He laughed scornfully at his attacks of fever, and 
rebuked them for venturing to assail him so unnecessarily. 

Then he would often murmur to himself: That was 
not the right one, that was not the right one; there must 
be yet another out in the cold mountains." At these 
words Sintram always involuntarily shuddered. They 
seemed to confirm his own opinion that the man who had 
ridden with him, and the man who had sat at table in the 
castle, were two perfectly distinct persons; and he knew 
not why, but this thought was excessively terrible to him. 

Knight Biorn recovered, and seemed to have entirely 
forgotten the whole circumstance of the pilgrim. He 
hunted in the mountains, he engaged in many a wild 
quarrel, and Sintram as he grew up became his almost con- 
stant companion, developing as he did every year more 
and more a fearful strength of body and of mind. Many a 


216 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


one feared the look of his pale sharp features, his dark 
rolling eyes, his tall muscular and somewhat lean figure; 
and yet no one hated him, not even those whom he had 
insulted or injured in his wildest moods. Possibly this 
may have proceeded from the kindly presence of the old 
Kolf, who ever retained a gentle influence over him; but 
most of those who had known the Lady Verena before she 
retired from the world, asserted that there was a faint re- 
flection of the mother’s grace floating over the dissimilar 
features of her son, and that this attracted them to the 
youth. 

One day — it was at the beginning of spring — Biorn and 
his son had been hunting on the sea-coast, on the territory 
of another chieftain; and this, less for the love of sport 
than to bid defiance to a hated neighbor, and so perhaps 
to excite a feud. At this period, when his yearly fearful 
attack had passed off, Sintram was as usual even more 
wild and eager for combat than was his wont. It irritated 
him much on this day that his adversary did not come 
out of his castle to make armed resistance to their hunt- 
ing; and in the wildest words the youth cursed his tame 
patience and weak love of peace. Just then a young 
reckless horseman of his suite galloped joyfully up, 
shouting: 

“ Calm yourself, my dear young lord! I will wager that 
all will be as you and we desire. I was following a 
wounded deer on the sea-shore, when I saw a sail approach- 
ing, and a vessel filled with armed men. There is no 
doubt your enemy means to fall upon you on the coast.” 

Joyfully and secretly Sintram called all his hunting 
companions together, resolved this time to take the con- 
test into his own hands, and then victoriously to rejoin his 
father, and to surprise him with his prisoners and captured 
weapons. 

Well acquainted with all the hollows, glens and cliffs 


SINTEAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


217 


of the coast, the hunters quickly concealed themselves in 
the neighborhood of the landing-place, and the strange 
vessel soon approached with its swelling sails, anchored 
quietly in the bay, and the men began to disembark in 
imagined security. 

Foremost of all appeared a knight of splendid and noble 
bearing, arrayed in blue steel armor richly inlaid with 
gold. His uncovered head — for he carried his costly 
golden helmet hanging on his left arm — looked royally 
around, and his countenance was fair to look upon, with 
his dark-brown hair, and his well-trimmed mustache, 
beneath which might be caught a glimpse of a smiling 
mouth and two rows of pearly teeth. 

It seemed to the young Sintram as if he had seen this 
knight somewhere before, and he stood for a time motion- 
less. Suddenly, however, he raised his arm to give the 
concerted signal for attack. In vain the good Rolf, who 
had with difficulty succeeded in reaching the wild youth, 
whispered in his ear that these were not the enemies 
they were expecting, but unknown, and certainly noble 
strangers. 

Let them be who they may,” murmured the angry 
Sintram in reply, they have excited me to foolish wait- 
ing, and they must pay for it. Don^t oppose me if you 
value your life and mine.” 

And immediately he gave the signal, and thick as hail 
a shower of javelins whizzed on every side, and the 
northern warriors rushed forward, with their flashing 
weapons. 

They found their adversaries as brave as they could 
have desired, and perhaps still more so. Soon more of 
the attacking than of the attacked had fallen, and the 
stranger seemed to understand surprisingly the northern 
mode of fighting. 

The knight in the gorgeous armor had not been able in 


218 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


his haste to put on his helmet, but it seemed also as if he 
did not consider it worth the trouble. His gleaming 
sword protected him surely enough. He parried the flying 
darts with a movement quick as lightning, and dashed 
them away with such violence that they fell to the ground 
shivered to fragments. 

Sintram had at first not been able to approach him; for 
all his followers, eager to take so noble a prey, had 
thronged around the brilliant knight; but now wherever 
the stranger turned the way was sufficiently cleared, and 
Sintram sprung toward him with his sword upraised, 
shouting a battle-cry. 

Gabrielle!'’'’ exclaimed the knight, intercepting with 
ease the violent thrust, and striking the youth to the 
ground; then kneeling down on his fallen foe, he drew 
forth a glittering dagger and held it before him. Like 
massive walls, his followers in a moment stood around 
him; Sintram seemed lost without hope of deliverance. 

He determined to die as became a bold warrior, and un- 
moved he gazed at the fatal weapon with a steady, unflinch- 
ing eye. 

As he lay now thus looking upward it seemed to him as 
if suddenly there appeared on the horizon a wonderfully 
beautiful female form in azure garments gleaming with 
gold. 

‘‘ Our ancestors were right in their tales of the Valky- 
rias!” murmured he. Strike, unknown conqueror!’^ 

But the knight did not strike, and no Valkyrias had 
appeared; it was the beautiful wife of the stranger, who 
had just come up to the upper deck of the vessel and had 
thus fallen into Sintram’s view. 

Folko,^’ cried she, in a sweet voice; thou knight with- 
out reproach! I know that thou wilt spare the van- 
quished!^^ 

The knight sprung up with noble grace, extended liis 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


219 


hand to the conquered youth and said: Thank the noble 
lady of Montfaucon for your life and liberty. If, however, 
you are so totally devoid of all that is good that you wish 
to begin the contest again, I am ready, but you must strike 
firsts 

Sintram sunk on his knees, overwhelmed with shame, 
and wept, for he had long heard of the great deeds of his 
distant relative, the French Knight Folko of Montfaucon, 
and of the grace of his gentle Lady Gabrielle. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

The Baron of Montfaucon looked with astonishment at 
his strange adversary; but as he gazed at him more and 
more, remembrances rose within him, calling to his mind 
the northern race from which his ancestors were descended, 
and with whom he had always maintained friendly inter- 
course. A golden bear's claw fastening Sintram’s cloak 
confirmed his suspicions. 

Have you not,^Mie asked, valiant cousin, called 
the Sea King Arin Biorn, who wears on his helmet a 
golden vulture-wing? and is not your father the Knight 
Biorn? for I think the beards claw on your breast must be 
the heraldic badge of your race.” 

Sintram assented to all this in deep and humble shame. 

The knight of Montfaucon raised him from the ground 
and said in a grave, gentle tone: We are then related 
to each other, but I had never thought that any one of our 
honorable house could have attacked a peaceful man with- 
out provocation, and moreover without warning.” 

Slay me,” replied Sintram, if I am still worthy to 
die by such noble hands; I have no desire to see the light 
of day any longer.” 

Because you have been conquered?” asked Mont- 
faucon. 


220 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Sintram shook his head. 

Or because you have committed an unknightly act?’* 

The youth’s blush of shame expressed assent. 

You must not wish to die on that account/’ continued 
Montfaucon, "^but far rather to make amends for your 
fault and to render yourself illustrious by many glorious 
deeds. See. you are blessed with valor and strength of 
limb, and moreover with the eagle glance of a general. I 
would dub you a knight at once had you fought as well in 
a good cause as you have in a bad one. Let me soon have 
occasion to do so. You may yet become a hero full of 
honor.” 

A merry sound of pipes and silver cymbals interrupted 
the conversation. Gabrielle, beautiful as the morning, 
disembarked, followed by her maidens, and being informed 
by Folko in a few words respecting his late adversary, she 
regarded the whole contest as a mere trial of arms, saying: 

You must not let it vex you, noble sir, that my hus- 
band has won the prize, for you must know that in the 
whole world there is only one hero over whom the lord of 
Montfaucon cannot boast of victory. And who knows,” 
she continued, half-jestingly, whether eveii that would 
have been so but that he presumed to win back the magic 
ring from me who had been alloted to him as a bride by 
the will of God and by the choice of my own heart.” 

Folko bent smiling over the snow-white hand of his lady 
and then begged the youth to conduct him to his father’s 
castle. Rolf undertook with great pleasure to superintend 
the disembarkation of the horses and other valuables, for 
it seemed to him that an angel in woman’s form had ap- 
peared to soften his beloved young master, and perhaps 
even to free him from that early curse. 

Sintram had sent messengers in all directions to seek his 
father and to announce to him the arrival of the noble 
guests. They therefore found the Knight Biorn already 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


221 


in his castle and everything arranged for a festive recep^ 
tion. Gabrielle entered the lofty gloomy building with a 
feeling of awe, and looked with still greater fear at the 
rolling fiery eyes of its master; now even the pale dark- 
haired Sintram appeared to her terrible, and she sighed 
within herself : 

Oh ! what an awful abode, my knight, hast thou 
brought me to visit! Oh! that we were at home once more 
in my sunny Gascony, or in thy knightly Normandy !^^ 

But the grand and noble reception, the deep reverential 
respect paid to her grace and to Knight Folko^s renown 
tended to reassure her, and soon her butterfly delight in all 
that was new was pleasantly awakened by the unwonted 
aspect of everything in this strange world. Besides, any 
womanly fear could but trouble her for a moment when 
her lord was near. She knew too well the powerful pro- 
tection afforded by the noble baron of Montfaucon to all 
that were dear to him or commended to his charge. 

Presently Eolf passed through the large hall in which 
they were seated, conducting the attendants of the stran- 
gers and their baggage up to their apartments. As they 
went by, Gabrielle caught sight of her favorite lute, and 
ordered a page to bring it to her, that she might see if 
her precious instrument had in any way suffered from the 
sea-voyage. As she bent over it, tuning it with earnest 
attention, and her taper fingers ran up and down the 
strings, a smile like the light of spring passed over the 
dark countenances of Biorn and Sintram, and both ex- 
claimed with an involuntary sigh: 

^^Oh! if she would play and sing to it, that would be 
delightful r 

The lady felt flattered, and looked smilingly at them, 
nodded a gracious assent, and sang as she touched her 
lute : 


232 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


“ When the flowers come back 
In the merry May, 

And the glad birds sing, 

In the jocund spring. 

Yet one, alas! one is away! 

“ That one, ah! well do I know its name. 

But I cannot, I will not the sound disclose, 

For the love that 1 bore it, none else may claim 
Though the heart that it loved, it no longer knows. 

“Oh! nightingale, tune not so sweetly thy voice 
On the blossoming, lovely spray; 

My heart swells with sadness and cannot rejoice 
As thy cadence falls softly and gay; 

Tune less sweetly thy voice! 

“ For we hail the flowers. 

And the welcome showers. 

Of blooming May; 

But the one alone 
Alas! once my own, 

Is forever away.” 

The two Norwegians sat lost in sad reflection; Sintram^s 
eyes especially sparkled with a soft lustre, a faint blush 
overspread his cheeks, and his features assumed a subdued 
expression, giving him almost the appearance of a glorifled 
spirit. The good Rolf, who had paused to listen to the 
song, was heartily delighted at this, and raised his old 
faithful hands in fervent gratitude to heaven. 

Gabrielle, however, in her astonishment could not take 
her eyes from Sintram. At last she said: 

My young friend, now tell me what has touched you 
so much in this little song? It is nothing at all but a 
simple lay of the spring, full of the images which that 
sweet season, with its thousand changes and revivals, ever 
calls forth in my country.” 

Have you such a home, so wonderfully beautiful and 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


233 


so rich in song?’^ exclaimed Sintram with enthusiasm. 

Then I am no longer surprised at your unearthly beauty, 
nor at the power which you exercise over my hard, wild 
heart; for a Paradise of song must surely send such angelic 
messengers to calm the chaos that pervades the world. 
And as he spoke he sank on both knees before the beauti- 
ful lady in deep humility. 

Folko smiled approvingly, but Gabrielle appeared em- 
barrassed, and as if she scarcely knew what to do with the 
half- wild, half-tamed young Northman. After a moment’s 
reflection, however, she held out to him her fair hand, and 
said as she gently raised him: 

Any one who finds so much pleasure in song must cer- 
tainly know how to awaken it himself. Take my lute, and 
let us hear some sweetly inspired lay.” 

But Sintram gently refused the delicate instrument, and 
said : 

Heaven forbid my manly hand should touch these 
tender strings! Were I even to begin some soft melodious 
strain, yet at last, as the music swells, the wild spirit that 
dwells within me would burst forth, and there would be an 
end of this magic lute. No, allow me to fetch my own 
powerful harp, with its strings of bears’ sinews and its 
brass mountings. For, in truth, I feel myself inspired 
both to play and to sing!” 

Gabrielle whispered a half-smiling half-fearful assent, and 
Sintram speedily procured his wonderful harp, and began 
to strike its deep-toned strings with a strong touch, and to 
sing with a voice no less powerful, the following song: 

“ Kniglit, wliither away in the raging gale?” 

“ To a southern shore I hoist my sail.” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

“ I have traversed enough of the frozen snow, 

Through clovered meadows I now will go.” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 


224 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


The stars guide liim by night and the sun by day, 

Till he anchors in glorious Napoli’s bay. 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

There wanders an exquisite girl on the strand, 

Her hair is entwined with a golden band. 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

“ Good-day, good-day to thee, fairest one, 

My bride thou shalt be ere setting sun.” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

“ Nay, Sir Knight, thy wooing I must reject, 

A Margrave has made me his bride elect.” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

‘ ‘ Let him come then and try his sword with me. 

And the combat shall show who possesseth thee!” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

Oh! see ’mid the beautiful maidens around. 

Another in whom fairer graces abound!” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

“ Nay, nay! upon thee have I centered my love. 

And no power exists which its force can remove.” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

Then came the young Margrave, revengeful and sore. 

And the Northman’s good sword laid him low in his gore. 
Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

And then the glad hero exultingly cried : 

Now, now, all are mine, lands, castle and bride!” 

Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful flowers! 

Sintram ceased, but his eyes sparkled wildly, and the 
strings of his harp eyer kept reverberating in a kind of 
marvelous cadence. Biorn had drawn himself haughtily 
erect in his chair, and stroked his huge mustache and 
rattled his sword, as if with pleasure. 


8INTRAM AND BIS COMPANIONS. 


5'25 


Gabrielle trembled at the wild song and at these strange 
beings, but the fear only lasted till she cast a glance at 
Sir Folko of Montfaucon, who was sitting smiling in all 
his knightly strength, letting the rude uproar rage around 
him, like the hurly-burly of some autumnal storm. 


CHAPTER VIL 

Some weeks after this Sintram came down to the castle- 
garden one evening in the twilight, in a state of great dis- 
composure. However much Gabrielle’s presence might 
soothe and calm his mind, the fearful wildness of his nature 
returned if she disappeared for a moment from the social 
circle. Just now, after having long and kindly read 
aloud some ancient heroic tales to the elder Biorn, 
she had retired to her own apartments. The tones of her 
lute were distinctly to be heard in the garden below, but it 
seemed as if these very sounds drove the wild youth still 
more impetuously through the shades of the time-honored 
elms. Stooping under some thickly-grown branches he 
came unexpectedly close upon something with which he 
almost fell into collision, and which appeared to him at 
first sight like a little bear, standing on its hind legs, 
with a long and strangely crooked horn on its head. He 
started back with alarm, but it addressed him in a harsh, 
human voice: 

Young knight, brave young knight, whence come you? 
Whither are you going? And why so f rightened ?^^ and 
Sintram now for the first time saw that he had before him 
a little old man, wrapped up in a rough fur garment, which 
almost entirely concealed his features, and he wore a long 
and strange-looking feather in his cap. 

'^Whence come you? And whither are you going?” 
replied Sintram, indignantly. Such questions are befit- 


226 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


ting for me to ask. What are you doing in our castle- 
garden, you ugly little rnan?^^ 

Well, well,"" said the other, laughing, I am thinking 
that I am quite big enough as I am. One cannot always 
be a giant. And besides, what do you find amiss in my 
going on a snail-hunt here? Snails do not surely belong to 
the game, which you, with your experienced valor, have 
reserved as sport for yourselves alone. I, on the other hand, 
know how to prepare them a delicious aromatic drink, and 
I have already caught sufficient for to-day; marvelous 
fat little creatures, with wise faces like men, and 
long twisted horns on their heads. AVill you look, young 
master?"" 

And so saying he unbuttoned and unhooked his fur 
mantle, but Sintram, seized with horror and disgust, 
exclaimed: 

Pshaw! Such animals are repulsive to me! Let them 
alone, and tell me instead who and what you really are 
yourself."" 

Are you so bent upon names?"" replied the little man. 

Let it content you that I am a master of the most secret 
lore, and am well acquainted with the oldest and most 
intricate histories. Ah! young master, if you would only 
hear them once! But you are afraid of me!"" 

Afraid of you?"" said Sintram, with a wild laugh. 

Many a better man than you has been so,"" mur- 
mured the little master; only they would confess to it 
just as little."" 

To prove the contrary to you,"" said Sintram, will 
remain with you till the moon is high in the heavens. But 
then you must tell me your stories."" 

The little man gave a nod of satisfaction, and while they 
both paced up and down a retired elm-walk he began as 
follows: 

‘^Many hundred years ago there was a handsome young 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


227 


knight, called Paris of Troy, and he lived in the burning 
lands of the South, where there are the sweetest songs, the 
most aromatic-smelling flowers, and the most charming 
women. You know a song about that land, young sir, do 
you not? ‘Heigh-ho! for the land with the beautiful 
flowers r. Isn’t it so?” 

Sintram bowed his head in assent, and his breast heaved 
a deep sigh. 

“ Well,” continued the little master, “ Paris had a habit, 
such as is frequent in those countries, and of which very 
pretty rhymes are often sung: he would pass whole months 
in the garb of a peasant, and go piping about the woods 
and flelds, pasturing his flocks. One day three beautiful 
sorceresses appeared to him, disputing about a golden 
apple, and they desired to know from him which of them 
was the fairest, for to her the golden fruit was to belong. 
The flrst knew how to obtain thrones and sceptres and 
crowns, the second could make people wise, and the third 
could prepare love-potions and love-charms which could 
secure the favor of the most beautiful women. Each 
offered her choicest gifts to the shepherd-knight, that he 
might award the apple to her. But as fair women pleased 
him better than anything else in the world, he decided 
that the third was the most lovely, and her name was 
Venus. The two others departed in great displeasure, but 
Venus bid him put on again his knightly armor, and his 
hat with its waving feathers, and then she conducted him 
to a splendid fortress in a city called Sparta, where the 
noble Duke Menelaus ruled with his young Duchess Helen. 
She was the most beautiful woman upon earth, and the 
enchantress was ready to bestow her on Paris in gratitude 
for the golden apple. Paris was well satisfied at this, and 
wished for nothing better; only he asked himself how he 
ought to begin.” 

“Paris must have been a fine knight!” said Sintram, 


228 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


interrupting the story. Such things are easily settled. 
Challenge the husband to fight, and the victor possesses 
the lady." 

But Duke Menelaus was the knighCs host," said the 
narrator. 

'MVell, little master," exclaimed Sintram, ^^he might 
have asked the sorceress for another beautiful woman, and 
then have saddled his horse, or weighed anchor, and 
departed !" 

Yes, yes, it is very easy to say so!" replied the little 
old man. But if you had only seen how bewitching this 
Duchess Helen was. She was not to be changed for any." 
And with glowing words he began to depict the beauty 
of the wonderful woman, but feature for feature was so 
like the image of Gabrielle that Sintram tottered and 
was obliged to support himself against a tree. The little 
master stood opppsite to him, laughing, and asked: 

Well now, should you have still counselled flight to 
that poor Knight Paris?" 

Tell me quickly what happened," stammered out 
Sintram. 

The sorceress acted honorably toward the knight," 
continued the old man. She told him beforehand that 
he would carry away the charming duchess to his castle at 
Troy, that it would be the ruin of himself and his city and 
his whole race, but that for ten years he would be able to 
defend himself in Troy and to delight in Helen’s sweet 
love." 

^^And he accepted the terms, or he was a fool!" 
exclaimed the youth. 

Yes, surely," whispered the little master, he accepted 
them. And I would have done so myself ! Well, my 
young hero, things looked then much as they are looking 
now. Through the thickly intertwined branches of the 
trees, the moon, just passing from beneath the clouds. 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


229 


was shining in the silent twilight. Leaning against an 
old tree, just as you are doing now, stood the slender 
ardent Knight Paris, and by his side was the enchantress 
Venus, but so disguised and transformed that she did not 
look much more beautiful than I do. And in the silvery 
light of the moon, through the whispering boughs, there 
appeared the form of a lovely and much desired lady, 
sweeping along, in solitary meditation.^^ 

He was silent, and like the reflection of his deluding 
word, Gabrielle just then actually appeared, musing soli- 
tarily as she swept down the avenue of elms. 

^^Man! Fearful master! how am I to name you? 
What do you wish to urge me to?’^ whispered the trembling 
Sintram. 

You know of course your father’s mighty stone fortress 
on the Moon-Rocks!” replied the old man. ‘‘The gov- 
ernor and his men are true and devoted to you! It would 
stand a ten years’ siege, and the little gate which leads 
from here to the mountains is open, as was the gate of the 
citadel in the ducal fortress of Sparta to Paris.” 

And truly, through a door in the wall, left open he 
knew not how, the youth saw in the distance, gleaming in 
the moonlight, the dim range of mountains. 

“And,” said the little master, with a grin, repeating 
Sintram’s former words — “and if he did not accept the 
terms, he was a fool!” 

At that moment, Gabrielle stood close by him. With 
a slight movement of his arm he could have embraced her, 
and a moonbeam, suddenly breaking forth, shone like a 
ray of glory upon her heavenly beauty. The youth had 
already bent forward toward her. 

“ Let not tlie world’s turmoil, 

His heart and spirit soil, 

I pray, Oh Lord my God ! ' 

Call him to thee on high, 


230 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


To mansions in tlie sky, 

Though through anguish be the road ! ” 

These words were at this moment chanted by the old 
Rolf, as he lingered in solitary prayer by the castle-lake, 
full of foreboding care. They reached Sintram's ear, and 
he stood as if spell-bound, and made the sign of the cross. 
The little master at once hopped away on one leg, with a 
strange, awkward rapidity through the gate, which he 
closed with a yell after him. 

Terrified at the wild noise, Gabrielle started ; Sintram 
approached her softly, and said, offering her his arm : 

Permit me to accompany you to the castle hall. The night 
sometimes in our northern hills is somewhat wild and 
fearful.'’^ 


CHAPTER VIII. 

They found the two knights within over their wine. 
Folko was relating stories in his usual lively and cheerful 
manner; and Biorn was listening moodily, but it seemed 
as if the dark clouds were almost against his will giving 
way to a pleasing sense of comfort. 

Gabrielle greeted her lord with a smile and, signing to 
him to continue, took her seat near the Knight Biorn 
with an air of cheerful attention ; Sintram stood sad and 
drearn-like by the hearth, and stirred up the embers, 
which cast a strange glow upon his pale face. 

And above all the German trading towns,” continued 
Montfaucon, ^^that of Hamburg is the richest and the 
greatest. In Normandy, we are always glad to see their 
merchants land on our coasts, and are always ready to help 
the good excellent people by word and deed. I was 
received with great honor once when I visited Hamburg. 
Moreover, I found its inhabitants just engaged in a feud 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


231 


with a neighboring count, and I at once used my sword in 
their behalf with vigor and success.” 

Your sword! your knightly sword!” broke forth 
Bibrn, the old fire flashing from his eyes, ‘^against a 
knight ! And for costermongers ? ” 

"‘Sir,” said Folko, quietly, ^‘hoiu the barons of Mont- 
faucon have used their swords has ever rested with them- 
selves, without the interference of any third person, and I 
intend to maintain this good custom as I have received it. 
If you are opposed to it, say so freely. At the same time 
I forbid any rude word against the men of Hamburg, 
whom I have already declared to be my friends.” 

Biorn cast down his haughty eyes and the Are faded 
from them. Then in a low voice he said: “ S^^eak on, 
noble baron, you are right and I am wrong.” 

Folko held out his hand to him in friendship across the 
table, and thus continued his narration: 

“ The dearest of all my dear friends at Hamburg are 
two people of marvelous experience — a father and his son. 
What have they not seen and done in the remotest ends of 
the earth, and established for the welfare of their native 
town ? Thanks be to God, my life is not to be called a 
barren one, but compared to the wise Gotthard Lenz and 
to his powerful son Rudlieb, I seem to myself like a squire 
who has been to a couple of tournaments, and has perhaps 
in the chase reached the uttermost boundary of his own 
forests. They have converted, overcome, gladdened, dark 
men in lands whose name I do not know, and the riches 
they have brought back with them they have dedicated to 
the common good, as though there were nothing else to do 
with it. On their return home from their bold voyages 
they hasten to a hospital established by them, and there 
they act as overseers and as watchful, humble nurses. 
Then they select building-ground for handsome towers and 
fortresses, which they erect for the protection of their 


232 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


country; then, again, they inspect houses in which the 
wandering pilgrim finds a hospitable resting-place ; and, 
lastly, in their own home they entertain their guests, rich 
and noble as kings, and simple and unconstrained as shep- 
herds; and many a tale of their adventures gives a relish to 
the choice viands and the costly wine; among others they 
have told me one at which my hair stood on end, and per- 
haps I can here gather closer information from you with 
regard to the occurrence. It was many years ago, just at 
the holy Christmas season, that Gotthard and Kudlieb 
were wrecked on the Norwegian coast during a violent 
storm; they cannot accurately declare the position of the 
rocks on which their vessel struck; but so much is certain, 
that not far from the spot the towers of a strong knightly 
castle rose, and father and son repaired thither to request 
assistance and refreshment, such as Christian people are 
wont to give, leaving meanwhile their followers in the 
shipwrecked vessel. The castle gate was opened to them and 
they thought that all was well. All at once the court-yard 
was filled with armed men, who directed their sharp, steel- 
pointed lances against the helpless strangers, whose honor- 
able representations and gentle entreaties were met only 
by sullen silence, or with hoarse and scornful jeering. At 
last a knight came down the fiightof stairs with eyes hash- 
ing fire — they know not if it were a phantom, or some wild 
heathen — he gave a signal and the fatal lances closed more 
narrowly around them. At that moment the flute-like 
tones of a woman’s voice were heard, calling on God 
to help, and in mad fury the specters rushed against each 
other, the gates flew open, and Gotthard and Rudlieb fled, 
catching a glimpse as they passed of an angelic woman at 
a lighted window. They made every exertion to get their 
leaking vessel again afloat, preferring rather to give them- 
selves up to the sea than to that terrible shore, and at last 
after manifold dangers they landed in Denmark. 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


233 


They are of opinion that that wicked castle was a 
heathen fortress, but 1 consider it to be some ruined 
stronghold deserted by man, in which hellish specters carry 
on their sport by night, for tell me, what heathen would be 
so demon-like as to offer death to shipwrecked suppliants 
instead of refreshment and assistance?’^ 

Biorn stared fixedly before him, as if turned to stone. 
But Sintram stepped from the hearth to the table and 
said: Father, let us seek out this nest of wickedness, and 
lay it even with the ground. I know not why, but my 
mind is impressed with it as a certainty, that this fearful 
occurrence is alone to blame for my terrible dreams.” 

Burning with rage against his son, Biorn rose up, and 
would perhaps again have uttered some dreadful impreca- 
tion, but it was not to be; for just at that moment the 
pealing notes of a trumpet interrupted his angry words, the 
folding-doors were solemnly thrown open, and a herald 
entered the apartment. 

He bowed reverently, and then said: ^‘1 am sent by Jarl 
Eric the Aged. Two nights ago he returned from his ex- 
pedition in the Grecian Sea. He had intended to take venge- 
ance on the island which is called Chios, because about 
fifty years ago his father had been slain there by the mer- 
cenaries of the emperor. But your kinsman, the sea-king 
Arin Biorn, was lying at anchor in the bay, and advised 
pacification. Jarl Eric would not hear of this, and the 
sea-king Arin Biorn at length said that he would never 
suffer the island of Chios to be laid waste, because it was 
there that the songs of an ancient Greek bard, named 
Homer, were gloriously sung, and moreover very choice 
wines were drunk there. From parley they proceeded to 
combat, and so mightily did the sea-king Arin Biorn pre- 
vail, that Jarl Eric lost two of his vessels, and only escaped 
with difficulty in one which was already much injured. 
For this act Eric the Aged hopes one day to make the 


234 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


house of the sea-king atone, since Ariri Biorn is himself 
not on the spot. AVill you therefore, Biorn of the Fiery 
Eyes, make compensation to Jarl in as much oxen, money 
and land as he demands? Or will you prepare to meet him 
for battle on Niflung’s Heath, seven days hence 

Biorn bowed his head composedly, and repeated in a 
courteous tone: Seven days hence at Hiflung’s Heath. 
He then presented the herald with a gold embossed goblet 
full of rich wine, saying, Drink that, and then hide the 
cup that thou hast emptied in thy mantle, and take it with 
thee.” 

Greet thy Jarl also from the Baron of Montfaucon,” 
added Folko, and tell him that I too will be present at 
Niflung's Heath, as the hereditary friend of the sea-king, 
and as kinsman and guest of Biorn of the Fiery Eyes.” 

The herald evidently started at the name of Montfaucon; 
he bent very low, looked with reverent attention at the 
baron, and quitted the hall. 

Gabrielle smiled at her knight with an untroubled and 
loving air, for well she knew his renown as a warrior; she 
only asked: Where shall I • remain, Folko, when you 

go forth to battle?” 

“1 thought,” replied Biorn, ^‘you would be pleased to 
stay in my castle, beautiful lady. I leave my son behind 
for you as ward and squire.” 

Gabrielle hesitated for a moment, and Sin tram having 
returned to his place by the hearth, muttered to himself, 
looking gloomily at the bright flame: ‘^Yes, yes it will 
possibly be so. It seems so me that Duke Menelaus 
may have just left the fortress of Sparta on some such 
warlike expedition, when the ardent Knight Paris met the 
beautiful Helen at eventide in the garden.” 

But Gabrudle, shuddering she knew not why, said sud- 
denly: "'Without you, Folko? And shall I then be 
deprived of the pleasure of seeing you fight? and miss 
the honor of tending you should you be wounded?” 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 235 

Folko bowed and gracefully thanked his lady, and 
replied : 

Go with your knight, since thou so desirest it, and be 
his lovely inspiring star. It is indeed a good old northern 
custom that women should be present at the contests of 
knights, and no Northman will disturb the spot bright- 
ened with the light of their eyes. Unless’^ — inquired he, 
casting a glance at Biorn — ‘^Eric Jarl perhaps is not 
worthy of his ancestors.” 

He is a man of honor,” asserted Biorn. 

Then array yourself, my fairest love,” said Folko, 
half singing and half speaking, ^^and come forth with us 
to the battle-field as judge of our prowess!” 

“Forth! Forth with us to the battle-field!” echoed 
Sintram, enthusiastically, and all dispersed cheerfully and 
hopefully, Sintram repairing to the forest, and the rest to 
repose. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Niflung^s Heath was the name given to a desolate and 
dreary tract of country in Norway; it w'as said that the 
young Nifiung, the son of Hogne, the last of his race, had 
there darkly ended a sad and unsuccessful life. Many 
ancient gravestones were scattered around, and in the few 
oak-trees which rustled here and there on the plain, 
mighty eagles had built their nests, and fought at times 
so bitterly with each other that the fiapping of their 
heavy wings and their angry cry could be heard afar in 
more inhabited regions, and the children in the cradles 
would start at the sound, and the old men would quake 
with fear as they sat slumbering round the hearth. 

The seventh night, the last before the day of battle, 
was just drawing in, and on both sides two mounted bands 


236 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


might be seen descending the hills ; that in the 
west led by Eric the Aged, that in the east by Biorn of 
the Fiery Eyes; for custom required that the combatants 
should appear on the field of battle previous to the hour 
appointed, in order to intimate that they rather sought 
than shunned the contest. 

Folko immediately pitched, on the most convenient spot, 
his tent of azure samite, fringed with gold, which he had 
brought with him for his fair lady’s comfort, while Sintram 
rode across to Jarl Eric the Aged, in the manner of a 
herald, to announce to him that the beautiful Gabrielle of 
Montfaucon was riding in the armed troops of the Knight 
Biorn, and would be present in the morning as judge of 
the combat. Eric Jarl bowed low at this agreeable tidings, 
and ordered his Skalds to strike up a song, which ran as 
follows: 

“ Men of Eric! 

Fierce and brave! 

Array yourselves ere morning light; 

With spear and shield, 

For battle-field, 

Deck yourselves for the coming fight! 

Beauty’s smile 

Awaits awhile 

To give the verdict of your fame; 

O’er sea and land, 

From distant strand. 

Resounds the glorious Folko’s name. 

There, amidst the foe. 

We his banner know. 

Pressing onward for the fight! 

Men of Eric! 

Folko comes! 

Battle with your utmost might ! ” 

The wonderful strains floated over the heath, and 
reached Gabrielle’s tent. She was well accustomed to hear 
her knight’s fame celebrated on all sides; but when his 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


237 


praises burst forth so gloriously under the sky of night 
from the lips of an enemy, she could scarcely refrain from 
falling on her knees before the great baron. But Folko, 
with courteous grace, raised her up, and pressing a fervent 
kiss on her soft hand, said: To you, my lovely lady, 
belong my deeds, and not to me!^’ 

As the night passed away, and the morning glowed in 
the east, Niflung’s Heath was full of movement and 
sound of sparkling arms. Knights put on their clashing 
armor, noble steeds neighed, the morning draught went 
round in shining goblets of gold and silver, and war-songs 
and harp-notes resounded everywhere. A merry march 
played on horns rose from Bidrn^s camp. Montfaucon, 
with his horsemen and retainers, clad in blue steel arniorj 
conducted his lady to a height on which she would be 
secure from the flying spears, and could have a free survey 
of the battle-field. The lights of morning played as it 
were in homage over her beauty, and as she passed close 
by the camp of Eric Jarl, his men lowered their arms, and 
the officers bent low their plumed helmets. Two of Mont- 
faucon^s pages remained on the height in attendance on 
Gabrielle, not unwillingly restraining their love of fight- 
ing for an office so agreeable. Then the two hosts passed 
in front of her, saluting her and singing to her as they 
went; and, placing themselves in battle array, the fight 
began. 

The spears of the Northmen, hurled by powerful hands, 
rebounded with a clash from the broad shields opposed to 
them, or met whizzing in their flight; and now and then, 
both in Biorn^s and Ericas hosts, a warrior was struck, and 
fell silent to the ground. 

Then the Knight Folko of Montfaucon advanced with 
his Norman horsemen. As he dashed by, he lowered his 
sword to salute Gabrielle; and then, raising a general ex- 
uiting battle-cry, he charged the left wing of the enemy. 


238 


SINTRAM AND BIS COMPANIONS. 


Ericas foot-soldiers, resting firmly on their knees, received 
them with fixed halberds; many a noble horse fell fatally 
wounded, bringing his rider with him to the ground; 
many another in his death-fall crushed his enemy beneath 
him. Folko rushed through — he and his war-steed un- 
wounded — and a troop of chosen knights followed him. 
Disorder was already raging in the hostile camp; the sol- 
diers of Biorn of the Fiery Eyes were already raising 
shouts of victory, when a troop of horse headed by Eric 
Jaii, advanced against the great baron, and while Mont- 
faucon’s Eormans, hastily assembled, were engaged in dis- 
persing these new ranks, the enemy’s infantry were gradu- 
ally gathering into a dense mass, rolling on and on. All 
this seemed occasioned by the wonderfully shrill cry of a 
warrior who appeared in their midst. And scarcely had 
this strange array been formed than the troops scattered 
again in all directions with loud war-cries, and with a force 
as irresistible as that with which Hecla sends forth the 
burning stream from its unfathomable abyss. Biorn’s sol- 
diers, who thought to surround the enemy, wavered and 
fell, and gave way before such inconceivable fury. In 
vain the Knight Biorn endeavored to oppose the stream — 
he was himself almost carried away in the general flight. 

Mute and motionless, Sintram gazed at the tumult. 
Friend and foe passed him by, each alike avoiding him, 
and none willing to have anything to do with him, so fear- 
ful and so unearthly was his aspect of silent rage. He too 
struck neither right nor left; his battle-ax rested in his 
hand. But his eyes flashed with fire, and seemed piercing 
the enemy’s ranks, as though he would find out him who 
had stirred up the warlike fury. He succeeded. A little 
man, in strange-looking armor, with large golden horns on 
his helmet, and a projecting visor attached to it, was lean- 
ing on a two-edged halberd shaped like a sickle, and looked 
hither and thither as if with a smile of derision at the vie- 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


239 


torions pursuit of Eric’s troops and the flight of their ad- 
versaries. “That is he!” exclaimed Siutram; “that is he 
wlio will drive us like fugitives before Gabrielle’s eyes!” 
And with the swiftness of an arrow he darted toward him 
with a wild shout. 

The combat began with fury, but it lasted only a short 
time. Defying the bold dexterity of his adversary. Sin- 
tram, taking advantage of his sujoerior size, struck so fear- 
ful a blow upon the horned helmet that a stream of blood 
gushed forth, the little man fell groaning, and after a few 
frightful convulsive movements stretched out his limbs as 
if stift'ening in death. 

His fall appeared to determine that of Eric’s army. 
Even those who had not seen his defeat suddenly lost 
courage and eagerness for fight, and retreated with uncer- 
tain step, or ran in wild desperation upon the halberds of 
the enemy. At the same time, Montfaucon had dispersed 
Eric Jarl’s cavalry after a desperate conflict, and having 
dragged Eric himself from his saddle, had taken him pris- 
oner with his own hand. Biorn of the Fiery Eyes stood 
victorious in the midst of the field. The day was won. 


CHAPTER X. 

. CoiTDCJCTED by the great baron, in the presence of the 
whole army, with glowing cheek and humble downcast 
look, Sintram ascended the hill where Gabrielle stood in 
all her radiant beauty. Both warriors bent on their 
knees before her, and Folko said solemnly: “ Lady, this 
young combatant of noble race merits the reward of this 
day’s victory. I pray you, let him receive it from your 
fair hand.” 

Gabrielle bowed courteously, disengaged her velvet scarf 
of blue and gold, and fastened it to a gleaming sword 


240 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


which a page brought her on a cushion of cloth of silver. 
Then with a smile she held out the noble gift to Sintrain, 
who was just bending forward to receive it, when 
Gabrielle suddenly paused, and turning to Folko, said; 

Noble baron, should not one on whom I bestow sword 
and scarf be first admitted to the order of knighthood 

Light as a feather, Folko sprung up, bowed low before 
his lady, and with solemn dignity gave the youth tlie 
accolade of knighthood. Then Gabrielle invested him 
with the sword, saying: For the honor of God and virtu- 
ous ladies, my young hero. I saw you fight, I saw you 
conquer, and my hearty prayer followed you. Fight and 
conquer often again, as you have done to-day, that the 
beams of your fame may shine even to my far-distant 
country. 

And at a sign from Folko, she offered her tender lips 
for the new knight to kiss. 

Thrilling with ardor, but as if sanctified for service, 
Sintram arose in silence, hot tears streaming down his 
softened countenance as the acclamations and trumpets of 
the assembled armies greeted the ennobled youth with 
deafening applause. 

The old Kolf stood, however, calmly aside, and as he 
looked in the mild beaming eyes of his young charge, he 
said, in a voice of glad thanksgiving: 


“ All strife liath now an end, 

Ricli gifts doth Heaven send ! 

The evil foe is slain !” 

Biorn and Eric Jarl had meanwhile been conversing 
together eagerly but not uncourteously. The victor now 
led his vanquished foe up the hill, and presented him to 
the baron and Gabrielle, saying: Instead of two enemies, 
we are now two sworn allies; and I pray you, my dear 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 241 

guests and kinsfolk, that you also will receive him with 
gracious favor, as one who henceforth belongs to us.” 

Who has done so always,” added Eric, smiling. I 
have indeed attempted revenge; but, defeated by land and 
water, one gets satisfied at last. And I thank God that I 
have not yielded ingloriously, either in the Grecian seas in 
battle with the sea-king, or on Niflung’s Heath with 
you.” Folko of Montfaucon gave a ready assent to this 
by cordially shaking his hand, and the reconciliation was 
solemnly and heartily made. Eric Jarl then addressed 
Gabrielle with such noble and courteous grace that she 
gazed on the hoary gigantic hero with a smile of wonder, 
and offered him her beautiful hand to kiss. 

Sintram meanwhile was engaged in earnest conversa- 
tion with the good Rolf, and at length the words caught 
the ears of others: ‘^But before all, bury that wonder- 
fully brave knight whom my battle-ax smote. Seek out 
the greenest mound for his resting-place, and the most 
magnificent oak to overshadow it ; also, first open his 
visor and look carefully at his face, that though mortally 
wounded we may not bury him alive ; and moreover, 
that you may be able to inform me of the appearance of 
one to whom I owe this most glorious of all prizes of 
victory. 

Rolf bowed kindly, and went away. 

Our young knight is inquiring there” — said Folka, 
turning to Eric Jarl — about a slain warrior of whom 
I would gladly hear more. Who, my dear sir, was that 
wonderful captain who led on your infantry in such a 
masterly manner, and who scarcely yielded before Sintram^s 
powerful battle-ax?” 

‘^You ask me more than I really can myself answer,” 
replied Eric Jarl. It is about three nights ago that the 
stranger joined me. I was sitting one evening with my 
fellow- warriors round the hearth ; we were forging our 


242 


8INTRAM AND EI8 COMPANIONS. 


armor and singing over our work. Suddenly, a^ve the 
sound of the hammer and the song, we heard a noise so 
powerful that we at once became silent, and sat motion- 
less as if turned into stone. Before long the sound was 
repeated, and we perceived that the noise must come from 
an immense horn which some one was blowing outside the 
castle, demanding admittance. I then went myself down 
to the castle-gate, and as I passed through the court-yard 
all my dogs were so terrified by the strange noise that 
instead of barking they were whining and crouching in 
their kennels. I scolded them, and called to them, but 
even the boldest would not follow me. ^ I will show you 
then,^ thought I, ^ the way to set to work;^ and I grasped 
my sword firmly, placed my torch close beside me on the 
ground, and let the portals open without further delay. 
For I knew well that it would be no easy matter for any 
one to enter without my will. 

A loud laugh greeted me from without, and I heard 
the words: MVell, well! these are mighty preparations 
indeed for giving one little man the hospitable shelter he 
desires!^ And indeed I felt a blush of shame come over 
me as I saw the small stranger standing quite alone oppo- 
site to me. I begged him to come in at once, and offered 
him my hand; but he still seemed too indignant, and 
would not give me his own in return. On his way into the 
castle, however, he became more friendly, and showed me, 
moreover, the golden horn which he had blown; he had 
another too of the same kind, and he wore both screwed 
on his helmet. 

‘'When we were together in the hall, he behaved in a 
very strange manner. Sometimes he was merry, some- 
times cross, sometimes courteous, and sometimes jeering, 
without anyone being able to see why he was thus varying 
every moment. I would gladly have inquired from whence 
he came, but how could I ask my guest such a question? 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


243 


So far he told us himself, that he was thoroughly frozen 
in our countries, and that in his own he was much 
warmer. He also seemed well acquainted with the 
imperial city of Constantinople, and he related fearful 
stories of how brother against brother, uncle against 
nephew, and even father against son, had thrust each 
other from the throne, blinding, cutting out tongues and 
murdering. At last he mentioned his own name ; it 
sounded Greek and noble, but none of us could retain it. 

Soon, however, he showed himself to be an excellent 
armorer. He understood how to handle the red-hot iron 
lightly and boldly, and to fashion it into form, and indeed 
into one of the most murderous weapons of which I have 
ever heard. This, nevertheless, I forbade, for I was re- 
solved to meet you in the field with equal arms, and with 
such as are in use in our northern country. He laughed 
and said we could be victorious without them; with skill- 
ful movements and the like: I was only to intrust him with 
the command of my infantry, and I was certain of victory. 
I thought to myself a good armorer of weapons is a good 
handler of weapons, still I desired some test of his powers. 
My lords, the skill he then exhibited in trials of strength 
is not to be conceived, and although the young Sintram is 
famed far and wide as a brave and mighty warrior, still I 
can scarcely imagine that he could kill such a one as my 
Greek ally.” 

He would have continued speaking, but the good Eolf 
came hastily back with some squires, and all looked so 
deadly pale that every eye was involuntarily turned to 
them with anxious expectation as to the tidings he had 
brought. Eolf stood still, trembling and silent. 

Courage, my old friend !” said Sintram. Whatever 
you may have to tell, everything from your faithful lips is 
truth and light.” 

Sir knight,” began the old man, do not be angry. 


24 : 4 : 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


but the strange warrior whom you slew to-day we could not 
possibly bury. Had we only not opened that visor — that 
hideous projecting visor! For so horrible a countenance 
grinned from beneath it, so fearfully distorted by death, 
that we scarcely kept our senses. God forbid that we 
should have touched him. Far rather send me to kill bears 
and wolves in the deserts, and let me look on while eagles, 
vultures and hawks revel on their carcasses. 

All present shuddered and remained for some time silent. 
At length Sintram regained courage and said: ^^Dear old 
man, whence come these wild words — such as these until 
now have been ever so alien and abhorrent to you? And 
you. Sir Eric, did your Grecian ally appear to you so ter- 
rible also when alive 

That I know not,^^ replied Eric Jarl, casting a glance 
of inquiry round the circle of his comrades and retainers. 
They confirmed his words. Only at last it appeared that 
neither chieftain, nor knight, nor soldiery could accurately 
say what the stranger was like. 

Then we will find it out for ourselves, and at the same 
time bury the corpse,’^ said Sintram, courteously signing 
to the whole assembled party to follow him. All did so 
except Montfaucon, whom the fearful entreaties of Gabri- 
elle kept at her side. 

He lost nothing thereby. For though Niflung’s Heath 
was searched in all directions twenty times over, the body 
of the strange warrior was no longer to be found. 


CHAPTER XL 

The joyful calmness which had come over Sintram on 
this day seemed to be more than a passing gleam. Even 
though at times a remembrance of the Knight Paris and 
Helena would infiame his heart with wilder and bolder 


SINTRAM AND IIIS COMPAmONS. 


245 


aspirations, it needed only one glance at scarf and sword, 
and the stream of his inner life would glide on again with 
clear and mirror-like calmness. 

What can a man wish for beyond what has already 
been bestowed upon me?"^ he would often say to himself in 
quiet delight. 

Matters thus went on for a long time. The beautiful 
northern autumn had already begun to redden the leaves 
of the oaks and elms around the castle, when one day he 
was sitting with Folko and Gabrielle, almost in the very 
same spot in the garden at which he had before encount- 
ered that mysterious being, whom he, without knowing 
why, had called the little master. But on this day how 
different was the aspect of everything. The sun was sink- 
ing calmly and brightly toward the sea, the evening mist, 
the token of an autumnal fog, was rising over the mead- 
ows and fields around the castle-hill. Presently Gabrielle, 
placing her lute in Sintram’s hands, said: 

Dear friend, so gentle and mild as you now always are, 
I may surely intrust you with my delicate instrument. 
Sing to it your song of that land of flowers. I feel as if 
on my lute it would sound far sweeter than when accom- 
panied with the vibrations of your fearful harp.^' 

The young knight bowed courteously, and obeyed the 
lady^s command. 

Softly, and with unwonted grace, the tones resounded 
from his lips, and the wild song seemed to be transformed 
and to blossom like some garden of the blessed. Gabrielle's 
eyes were suffused with tears, and Sintram, singing more 
and more delightfully in his ardent longings, gazed at their 
pearly brightness. When the last chords were sounding, 
Gabrielle^s voice repeated like some angePs echo: 

Heigh-ho for the land with the beautiful flowers!” 
Sintram put down the lute and heaved a sigh as he looked 
up thankfully toward the stars, now appearing in the 
heavens. 


246 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Then Gabrielle, turning toward her lord, whispered: 

Oh how long, how long, have we now been away from 
our own glorious castles and our blooming gardens! Oh I 
that land with the beautiful flowers!” 

Sin tram scarcely knew whether he heard aright, so 
utterly did he at once feel himself shut out from Paradise. 
His last hope too vanished before Folko^s courteous assur- 
ances that he would hasten to fulfill his lady’s wishes the 
very next week, and that their vessel was already lying off 
the shore ready for sailing. She thanked him with a kiss, 
softly imprinted on his forehead, and walked up the 
ascent toward the castle, resting on her husband’s arm, 
smiling and singing. Sintram, dejected in mind, and as 
if turned into stone, remained behind forgotten. 

At length, when night had darkened the sky, he started 
up wildly, and ran up and down the garden with all his 
former madness, rushing out at last into the wild moonlit 
hills. 

There he suffered his sword to clash against tree and 
bush, so that all around him there was a sound of crash- 
ing and falling, and the night-birds flew about him 
screaming and whistling in wild alarm, and stag and 
doe sprang away into the deepest coverts of the wilderness. 

Suddenly the old Rolf stood before him; he was on his 
way back from a visit to the chaplain of Drontheim, to 
whom he had been relating with tears of joy how Sintram 
had been softened by Gabrielle’s angelic presence, ay, 
almost cured, and how he ventured to hope that the evil 
dream had yielded. And now the whizzing sword of the 
furious youth had well-nigh unwittingly wounded the good 
old man. He stood still with folded hands, and sighed 
forth from the very depths of his heart: ‘^Oh! Sintram, 
my foster-child, the darling of my heart, what has come 
over thee to excite thee to this terrible rage?” 

The youth stood for a time as if spell-bound, gazing at 


SmTMAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


247 


his aged friend sadly and pensively, with eyes that looked 
like expiring watch-fires, shining through a thick mist. At 
length he sighed, and said scarcely audibly: 

Good Rolf, good Rolf, go away from me! I am not at 
home in thy garden of heaven, and if sometimes a kindly 
breeze blow open its golden gates for me, so that I may 
look in at the flowery meadow-land, where the good angels 
dwell, there comes at once an icy cold north wind between 
me and them, and the sounding portals close, and I remain 
outside alone in endless winter.^’ 

'' Dear young knight, oh! listen to me, oh! listen to the 
good angel within yourself ! Do you not bear in your hand 
the same sword with which the pure lady girded you? 
Does not her scarf move over your furious breast? Do you 
not remember? You used to say that no man could desire 
more than had been bestowed on you!^^ 

'‘Yes, Rolf, I have said that,^'’ replied Sintram, falling 
on the autumn moss with a flood of tears. The tears, too, 
ran down the old man^s face to his white beard. 

After a time the youth rose again; he ceased to weep, 
but his looks were fearful, cold and wrathful; and he said: 

See, Rolf, I have passed blessed and peaceful days, and 
I thought all the powers of evil within me were forever 
stifled and dead. It might, perchance, have been so, just 
as it would ever be day if the sun were always in the 
heavens. But ask this poor dark earth, why she looks so 
gloomy! Encourage her to smile as she was wont to do! 
Old man, she can no longer smile, and now that the gentle 
compassionate moon has passed behind the clouds with her 
holy funeral veil, she cannot even any longer weep; and in 
the hour of darkness every terrible feeling and every mad 
impulse wakens up, and I tell thee, disturb me not, disturb 
me not! Hurra! behind there, behind there, is the pale 
moon!” 

His voice had almost fallen into a murmur at these last 


248 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


words. Storm-like, he tore himself away from the trem- 
bling old man, and rushed away through the forest. 

Kolf knelt down and wept and prayed silently. 


CHAPTER XII. 

Where the sea-shore rises most steeply and abruptly 
under three half - withered oaks said to have been the 
scene of human sacrifices in heathen ages. Sin tram stood, 
leaning solitary and exhausted on his drawn sword, alone 
in the moonlit night. He looked out upon the distant 
heaving of the waves, and the pale beams of the moon, 
quivering between the branches of the trees, fell upon his 
motionless figure, making him appear like some fearful 
phantom. 

Presently some one partly raised himself from the tall 
yellow grass on his left, and groaning faintly laid down 
again. 

The following strange conversation, however, began 
between the two companions: 

Thou there, who movest thyself so mysteriously in the 
grass, dost thou belong to the living or to the dead?^^ 

As one chooses to take it. To heaven and to joy I am 
dead; to hell and to anguish I live.^^ 

^‘Methinks I have heard thee before.” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ Thou art perhaps a troubled spirit, and thy life blood 
was here perhaps poured out in sacrifice to idols!” 

“I am a troubled spirit, but no one has shed my blood, 
and no one can shed it. But they have hurled me down 
— ugh! into what a fearful abyss.” 

“And thou didst break thy neck there?” 

“ I live, and I shall live longer than thou.” 

“Thou almost seemest tome like the crazy pilgrim with 
the dead men’s bones.” 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


249 


“I am not he, although we often hold company to- 
gether; ay! ofttimes we have close and friendly inter- 
course. But between ourselves, I regard him also as mad. 
If I sometimes urge him on, and say: ‘Take!’ then he 
considers, and points upward to the stars; and then again, 
if I sometimes say: ‘Take not!’ then for the most part 
he will seize awkwardly, and he is able to destroy my best 
delights and pleasures. But nevertheless we keep up a 
sort of brotherhood in arms, and are indeed all but 
kinsmen.” 

“ Give me thy hand, that I may help thee up.” 

“Oh ho! my officious young sir, that might bring you 
little good. But in truth, you’re already helping me to 
rise. Give heed a bit.” 

AVild and more wildly the form struggled on the ground; 
thick clouds hurried over the moon and stars on a long 
unknown journey, and Sintram’s thoughts chased each 
other in a no less wonderful course wholly unrestrained, 
and far and near the grass and trees rustled awfully. 
At length the mysterious being had raised himself. As if 
with fearful curiosity the moon through a rent in the 
clouds cast a gleam upon Sintram’s companion, making it 
evident to the shuddering youth that the little master 
stood beside him. 

“Avaunt!” cried he, “I will hear nothing further of 
thy evil stories of the Knight Paris. I should be driven 
quite mad at the end.” 

“It doesn’t need stories of the Knight Paris for that!” 
laughed the little master. “ It is enough that the Helen 
of thy heart is traveling toward Montfancon. Believe me 
thou art a victim to madness already. Or wouldst thou 
that she should remain? Then thou must be more 
courteous toward me than thou art now.” 

And so saying, the little master raised his voice with 
such angry violence toward the sea that Sin tram could 


250 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


not refrain from shuddering at the dwarf. But he chid 
himself at once for the feeling, and convulsively grasping 
his sword-hilt with both his hands, he said scornfully: 

‘^Thou and Gabrielle! What acquaintance hast thou 
then with Gabrielle?” 

Not much,” was the answer returned. At the same 
time the little master evidently trembled with fear and 
anger, and at length he said: I cannot endure the name 
of thy Helen, do not repeat it to me ten times in a breath. 
But suppose the tempest were to rise? If the waves were 
to swell and roll, forming a foaming circle round the coast 
of Norway? Then the voyage to Montfaucon could not be 
thought of, and thy Helen would remain here at least 
tlirough the whole long dark winter!” 

If ! if !” replied Sintram, contemptuously. Is the sea 
then thy slave? Are the storms thy fellows?” 

They are rebels to me! Accursed rebels!” murmured 
the little master in his red beard. Thou must help me, 
Sir Sintram, if I am to control them; but thou hast again 
no heart for that.” 

Boaster! Provoking boaster!” exclaimed the youth, 
what dost thou desire of me?” 

"‘Not much, sir knight, not much for one who has 
power and ardor of soul. Thou hast only to look steadily 
and keenly out over the sea for one half-hour, and not to 
cease wishing with all thy might that it should foam and 
rage and swell and never rest till the icy hand of winter is 
on your mountains. That season in itself, is sufficient to 
delay the voyage of Duke Menelaus to Montfaucon. And 
give me also a lock of thy black hair. It is flying as 
wildly about thee as ravens’ and vultures’ wings.” 

The youth drew his sharp dagger, madly cutoff a lock of 
his hair, threw it to the stranger, and according to his de- 
sire gazed with earnest wishing over the expanse of sea. 
And softly, quite softly, the waters began to be troubled, 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPAB'IONS. 


251 


just as one whispers when anxious dreams come on, and 
when one longs to rest and cannot. Sintram was on the 
point of giving up; but in the moonlight he perceived a 
vessel sailing with white-swelling sails toward the south. 
The fear of seeing Gabrielle soon thus sailing away came 
over him; and ever wishing with increasing power, he 
fixed his eyes upon the watery abyss. Sintram, alas Sin- 
tram, art thou indeed the same being who but lately wast 
gazing on the moistened eyes of thy angelic lady? 

And the waves swelled more mightily, and the storm 
swept whistling and howling over the ocean; the breakers 
white with foam were already visible in the moonlight. 

Then the little master threw the lock of Sintram^s hair 
up toward the clouds, and as it fiuttered and floated away 
in the breeze the tempest rose so angrily that sea and sky 
were blended in one dense mist, and far off might be heard 
the cries of distress from many a sinking vessel. 

But the crazy pilgrim with the dead men^s bones passed 
close by the shore in the midst of the waters, gigantic in 
stature, and rocking terribly; the boat in which he stood 
was not visible, so mightily raged the waves round about 
it. 

Thou must save him, little master, thou must save him 
most surely,” cried Sintram, in a tone of angry entreaty, 
through the tumult of the winds and waves; but the little 
master replied with a laugh: 

Be at rest as regards him, he will be able to save himself. 
The waves cannot harm him. Dost thou see? They are 
only begging him, and that is why they toss so boldly 
around him. And he gives them rich alms, very rich; I 
can assure you that.” 

Indeed it seemed as if the pilgrim were strewing dead 
men's bones into the waters, and then passed scathless on 
his way. 

Sintram felt a horrid shudder pass through him, and he 


252 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 

rushed wildly toward the castle. His companion had 
vanished. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

In' the castle, Biorn and Gahrielle and Folko of Mont- 
f ail con were sitting round the stone table, from which, 
since the arrival of the noble guests, those suits of armor 
had been removed, which had formerly been the silent 
companions of the lord of the castle, and had been placed 
all together in a heap in the adjoining apartment. 

On this day, while the storm had been rattling so fu- 
riously against the doors and windows, it seemed as if the 
old armor in the adjoining room had also been stirring, 
and Gabrielle several times rose with alarm and fixed her 
beautiful eyes fearfully on the little iron door, as though 
she presently expected to see an armed specter issue from 
it, bending with his mighty helmet through the low 
vaulted door- way. 

Knight Biorn smiled grimly at her, and said as if he 
had guessed her thoughts: ^^Oh, he will never come out 
from thence again: at last I have put an end to that.” 

His guests stared at him doubtingly; but with an air of 
fearful indifference — it seemed as if the tempest had 
awakened the storm of rage within his own heart — he 
began the following narration: 

I was once also a happy man, I have smiled as you do, 
and could rejoice in the morning as you do; it was before 
the hypocritical chaplain had so bewildered the wise mind 
of my beautiful wife with his canting piety, that at last she 
retired into a convent, and left me alone with our wild son. 
That indeed was not right in the lovely Verena. Well, in 
her blooming glad youth before I knew her, many knights 
had sought her hand; among others. Sir Weigand the 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 5»o3 

Slender, and to him the fair maiden showed herself most 
inclined to give a favorable hearing. Her parents well 
knew that Weigand’s rank and power were almost equal to 
their own; his early renown in arms moreover was free 
from all reproach, so that Verena and he were almost 
regarded as affianced. 

''It happened one day that they were both walking 
together in the garden, and a shepherd was just driving 
his sheep up the mountain outside. The maiden saw 
among the flock a little snow-white lamb, skipping so grace- 
fully and merrily about that she longed to have it. Wei- 
gand at once vaulted over the railing, hastened after the 
shepherd, and offered him two gold bracelets for the little 
animal. But the shepherd would not part with it; 
he scarcely listened to the knight, but quietly continued 
his way up the mountain, with Weigand closely following 
him. At length Weigand lost his patience. He threat- 
ened, and the shepherd, sturdily and proudly, like all of 
his race in our northern lands, threatened in return. 
Suddenly Weigand’s sword clashed upon his head. He 
had intended the weapon to have fallen flat; but who can 
control a fiery steed or a drawn sword? The bleeding 
shepherd with his skull cloven fell down the precipice; hia 
flock bleated fearfully over the mountains. The little 
lamb alone ran in its terror toward the garden, pushed 
itself through the railings, and as if imploring help lay 
down at Verena’s feet, red with its master^s blood. She 
took it in her arms, and from that hour never allowed Wei- 
gand the Slender to appear again before her face. 

" She now always cherished the little lamb, and had no 
pleasure in anything else in the world, and she grew^ pale 
and turned her gaze heavenward like the lilies. She would 
even at that time have taken the veil, but just then I came 
to help her father in a bloody feud and rescued him from 
his enemies. This the old man represented to her, and, 
softly smiling, she gave me her beautiful hand. 


254 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


Poor Weigand’s grief would not allow him to remain 
any longer in his own country. It drove him forth as a 
pilgrim to Asia, whence our forefathers came, and he is 
said to have done wonderful deeds there, both of valor and 
humility. Indeed, my heart used to feel strangely weak 
at that time whenever I heard him talked of. 

After some years he returned and wished to build a 
church and a monastery on that mountain toward the west 
yonder, from whence the walls of my castle are distinctly 
visible. It is said that he wished to be consecrated as a 
priest there himself, but matters fell out otherwise. 

For some pirate vessels had sailed from the southern 
seas, and hearing of the building of this monastery, the 
captain imagined that he should find much gold belonging 
to the lord of the castle and to the master-builders, or else, 
that if he surprised and carried them off, a mighty ransom 
was to be extorted from them. He could have known but 
little of northern courage and northern weapons, but that 
knowledge was speedily obtained. 

Having landed in that bay under the black rocks, he 
reached the site of the building by circuitous paths, sur- 
rounded it, and fancied that the chief matter was now 
done. But hurra! Weigand and his builders rushed upon 
them with swords, hammers and axes. The heathens fled 
away to their ships, Weigand following them to take 
revenge. 

On his way he passed by our castle, and just as he 
caught sight of Verena on the terrace, and, for the first 
time after many years, she courteously acknowledged the 
salutation of the glowing victor, a dagger, hurled back by 
one of the fugitive pirates, struck his uncovered head, and 
he fell bleeding and insensible to tlie ground. 

‘‘We completed the rout of the heathens. Then I 
ordered the wounded knight to be brought into the castle, 
and my pale Verena’s face glowed like lilies in the morn- 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


255 


ing light, and Weigand opened his eyes with a smile at 
finding himself near her. He refused to be taken into any 
other room but the small one close b}^, where now the 
armor is placed; it felt to him, he said, like the little cell 
which he now hoped soon to inhabit in his quiet cloister. 
All was done according to his wish, my sweet Verena 
nursed him, and he seemed at first to be on the straight 
road to recovery, but his head remained w^eak and con- 
fused on the slightest emotion, his walk was rather a fall- 
ing than a walking, and his face was pale as death. We 
could not let him go. He used to come out of the little 
door there, when we were sitting together of an evening, 
tottering along into the hall; and my heart was often sad 
and wrathful, when Verena’s sweet eyes beamed so softly 
toward him, and a blush like the glow^ of evening would 
suffuse her lily cheeks. But I bore it, I could have borne 
it to the end of our lives. Alas, then Verena went into a 
cloister!” 

He fell so heavily upon his folded hands that the stone 
table seemed to groan beneath it, and he remained a long 
while motionless as one dead. When he again raised him- 
self his fiery eye glanced fearfully and angrily round the 
hall, and at length he said to Folko: 

Your beloved Hamburgers, Gotthard Lenz and his son 
Eudlieb, they are to blame for this! Who bid them be 
cast ashore here, so close to my castle!” 

Folko cast a piercing look on him, and was on the point 
of making a fearful inquiry; but another look at the 
trembling Gabrielle bade him be silent, at least for the 
present, and the Knight Biorn continued his narrative as 
follows: 

Verena was with her nuns, and I was alone, and my 
sorrow had driven me all day long wandering through 
forest and brook and mountain. Then in the twilight I 
came back to my desolate castle, and scarcely had I entered 


256 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


the hall than the little door creaked and Weigand, who 
had slept through all, glided toward me, asking: ^ Where 
then is Verena?’ Then I became almost mad, and I 
howled to him with a laugh: ‘ She is gone mad, and so am 
I, and so are you, and now we are all mad!^ Merciful 
heaven! the wound on his head burst open, and a dark 
stream flowed over his face — alas! how different from the 
redness when Verena met him at the castle gate! — and he 
raved, and rushed out into the wilderness, and has wandered 
about there ever since as a crazy pilgrim/^ 

He was silent, and Gabrielle was silent, and Folko was 
silent, all three cold and pale, like images of the dead. At 
last the fearful narrator added in a low voice and as if 
thoroughly exhausted : He has visited me here since 

then, but he will never come again through the little door. 
Have I not established peace and order in my castle.^” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SiNTRAM had not yet returned when the inmates of the 
castle retired to rest in deep bewilderment. Xo one was 
even thinking of him, for every heart was battling with 
strange forebodings and uncertain cares. Even the heroic 
breast of Knight Folko of Montfaucon heaved with debat- 
ing thoughts. 

Old Rolf still remained without, weeping in the forest, 
exposing his gray head heedless of the storm, and waiting 
for his young master. But he had gone a very different 
way. It was not till morning dawned that he entered the 
castle from the opposite direction. 

Gabrielle had slumbered sweetly through the night. It 
was as if angels with golden wings had fanned away the 
wild stories of the previous evening, and had wafted before 
her instead bright visions of the flowers and mirror-like 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


257 


lakes and green liills of her home. She smiled and 
breathed calmly, while without the magic storm raged 
howling over the woods and battled with the agitated sea. 

But in truth, when she awoke on the following morning, 
and still heard the windows rattling, and saw the clouds, 
as if dissolved in mist and steam, still concealing the face 
of heaven, she could have wept with dismay and sadness, 
especially as Folko had already quitted their apartments, 
and this — so her maidens informed her — clad in full armor. 
At the same time she heard the tramp of armed men re- 
sounding in the halls, and upon inquiry she learned that 
the lord of Montfaucon had summoned all his retainers to 
be in readiness to protect their lady. 

Wrapped in her ermine mantle, she almost looked in 
her fear like some tender flower just blooming above the 
snow, and tottering before the winter’s storms. Presently 
Sir Folko entered in all the splendor of his gleaming 
armor, peacefully carrying his golden helmet with its 
waving plume under his arm, and greeting Gabrielle with 
an air of cheerful serenity. At a sign from him her 
maidens retired, and the men-at-arms without were heard 
quietly dispersing. 

“ Lady,” said he, as he led her to a couch and took his 
seat beside her, while she already seemed reassured by his 
presence; '‘Lady, will you forgive your knight that he 
left you to endure some moments of anxiety, but honor 
and strict justice called him. Everything is now settled, 
and that quietly and peacefully; forget your fears, and 
whatever may have troubled you reckon now among the 
things that are no more.” 

"But you and Biorn?” asked Gabrielle. 

" On my knightly word of honor,” said Folko, " it is all 
well.” 

Then he began to talk of indifferent and cheerful mat- 
ters with all his wonted grace and wit; but Gabrielle, bend- 
ing toward him, said with deep emotion: 


258 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Oh Folko, oh my knight, the flower of my life, my 
protector and my dearest treasure on earth, let me know 
everything if thou mayst. If, however, any given promise 
binds thee, that is another thing. Thou knowest that I 
am of the race of Portamour, and that I would ask nothing 
of my knight which could cast the slightest breath of sus- 
picion upon his spotless shield.” 

Folko looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiling 
kindly at her, he said: ^^It is not that, Gabrielle. But 
wilt thou be able to bear what I have to announce to thee? 
Wilt thou not sink down under it as a slender fir bends 
beneath the burden of the snow?” 

She raised herself somewhat proudly, and replied: 
have already reminded thee of my father’s name. Let me 
only add that I am the wedded wife of the lord of Mont- 
faucon.” 

^^Be it so then,” answered Folko, bowing solemnly. 
^^Aiid if that must some day come to the light which has 
nought to do with such deeds of darkness, it at least comes 
forth less fearfully by a sudden flash. Know then, Ga- 
brielle, that the wicked knight who would have slain my 
friends Gotthard and Kudlieb, is none other than our host 
and kinsman, Biorn of the Fiery Eyes.” 

Gabrielle shuddered, and covered her face for a moment 
with her fair hands. Then, looking round with an air of 
amazement, she said: I have heard falsely, although even 
yesterday such a foreboding struck me. Or did you not say 
just now that all was settled between you and Biorn, and 
that quietly and peacefully? Between the brave baron and 
such a man after such a crime?” 

You heard aright,” replied Folko, gazing with hearty 
delight at his delicate yet high-minded lady. This morn- 
ing at earliest dawn I went to him and challenged him to 
mortal combat in the neighboring valley, if he were the 
man whose castle had well-nigh been the altar of sacrifice 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


259 


to Gotthard and Rudlieb. He stood there already com- 
pletely armed, and merely said: ^lam heP and followed 
me to the forest. But when we were alone at the place of 
combat he hurled his shield from him down a giddy preci- 
pice, then cast his sword of battle after it, and then with 
two gigantic efforts he tore off his coat of mail, and said: 
‘Now, thrust at me. Sir Judge, for I am a heavy sinner, 
and I dare not fight with thee.'' How dared I then attack 
him? Then a strange reconciliation was made between us. 
He is partly to be considered my vassal, and yet I solemnly 
absolved him from all payment in my own name and in 
that of my friends. He was contrite, and yet no tear was 
in his eye, and no friendly word crossed his lips. He was 
only oppressed with the sense of that strict justice which 
has invested me with this power, and Bi5rn is my vassal on 
that tenure. I know not, lady, whether you can bear to 
see us together in this manner, if not, I will seek some 
other castle as a residence for us; there are none, indeed, 
in Norway which would not receive us gladly and honora- 
bly, and this wild autumnal tempest may, perhaps, post- 
pone our voyage for some time longer. Only this I think, 
that if we now depart, and in this manner, the heart of this 
wild man will break. 

“ Where my noble lord tarries, there will I also gladly 
tarry under his protection,” replied Gabrielle; and again 
the greatness of her knight shone before her, and her heart 
glowed with rapture. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The noble lady had just unbuckled her knighPs armor 
with her own delicate hands — on the field of battle alone 
might pages or squires at her command have aught to do 
with Montfaucon's armor — and she was on the point of 


260 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


throwing his azure gold - embroidered mantle over him, 
when the door was gently opened, and Sintram entered the 
room, bowing humbly. 

At first Gabrielle gave him a kindly salutation, as 
was her wont ; but, suddenly growing pale, she turned 
away and said: '^For Heaven’s sake, Sintram, how you 
look! And how can one single night have altered you so 
terribly ?” 

Sintram stood still, as if thunderstruck, not knowing 
himself rightly what had really befallen him. 

Then Folko took him by the hand, and led him to a 
brightly-polished shield, and said very gravely: ^^Look at 
yourself in it, my young knight!” 

Sintram drew back horrified at the first glance. It 
seemed to him as if he saw the little master before him, 
with that one single upright feather in his wonderful cap; 
but at length he perceived that the mirror was showing 
him himself alone and no one else, and that it was only the 
cut of his own wild dagger in his hair which had given 
him this strange, and, as he could not deny, specter-like 
aspect. 

^'Who has done that to you?” inquired Folko, still 
severely and gravely. And what terror has made your 
wild and dishevelled hair thus stand on end?” 

Sintram knew not what to reply. It seemed to him as 
though he were standing before a judgment-seat, and that 
he were about to be degraded from his knightly rank. 

Suddenly Folko drew him away from the shield; and, 
leading him to the rattling window, asked: Whence 
comes this tempest?” 

Again Sintram was silent. His limbs began to tremble 
under him, and Gabrielle whispered, pale and terrified: 

Oh, Folko, my knight, what has happened? Oh, tell 
me — are we indeed come into an enchanted castle?” 

Our native North,” replied Folko, solemnl}^ is rich 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


2G1 


in many a secret art. We may not, for ail that, call its 
people enchanters; but the young man there has cause to 
watch himself narrowly; he whom the evil one has touched 
by so much as a hair ” 

Sintram heard no more. He staggered groaning out of 
the room. 

Outside he was met by old Rolf, still completely 
benumbed by the hail and tempest of the night. Only 
rejoicing to see his young master again, he left his dis- 
ordered appearance unnoticed; but as he accompanied him 
to his sleeping apartment, he said: ^‘Witches and spirits 
of the tempest must have carried on their pranks on the 
sea-shore. I know that such mighty changes in nature 
never take place without some devilish arts.^^ 

Sintram fell into a swoon, and it was only with difficulty 
that Rolf could so far recover him as to enable him to 
appear in the great hall at the midday hour. But before 
he went down he ordered a shield to be brought, looked at 
himself in it, and with dismay and grief cut off with his 
dagger the rest of his long black hair, making himself 
almost look like a monk; and thus he joined the others, 
who were already sitting at table. 

All looked at him with surprise; old Biorn, however, 
said, in a tone of bewilderment: Will you also go from 
me to a cloister, like your fair mother 

A commanding look from the lord of Montfaucon 
restrained any further outbreak; and, as if appeasingly, 
Biorn added, with a forced smile: ‘‘I only thought perhaps 
something had happened to him as to Absolom, and he 
had been obliged to part with his hair in rescuing himself 
from the meshes in which he was entangled.^' 

^^You should not jest with holy things,” repeated the 
baron with severity, and all were silent; and immediately 
after the repast was ended Folko and Gabrielle retired to 
their apartments with a grave and courteous salutation. 


m 


SIHTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


CHAPTEK XVI. 

Life in tlie castle from henceforth assumed quite 
another form. Those two exalted beings, Folko and 
Gabrielle, remained for the most part in their apartments; 
and when they did appear, it was with calm dignity and 
silent seriousness, and Biorn and Sintram stood with 
humble aw’e before them. Nevertheless, the lord of the 
castle could not bear the thought that his guests should 
withdraw to any other knighPs abode. Once when Folko 
spoke of it, something like a tear stood in the wild man’s 
eye. He bowed his head, and said softly: As you will. 
But I believe I shall wander among the rocks for days, if 
you go.” 

Thus they remained all together; for the storm and the 
sea continued to rage so furiously that no voyage was to be 
thought of, and the oldest man in Norway could not remem- 
ber such an autumn. The priests consulted all the Kunic 
documents, the Skalds looked through their songs and 
tales, and yet could find no record of a similar state of 
things. 

Biorn and Sintram braved the tempest. During the few 
hours that Folko and Gabrielle showed themselves, the 
father and son were always in the castle, as if in respectful 
attendance; the rest of the day, and often through the 
whole night, they w^ere rushing through the forests and 
among the rocks in pursuit of bears. 

Folko meanwhile exerted all the charms of his mind and 
all the grace of his noble manners to make Gabrielle forget 
that she was dwelling in this wild castle, and that the 
severe Norwegian winter was already setting in, which 
would ice them in for several months. Sometimes he 
would relate pleasant tales, sometimes he would play lively 
melodies, begging Gabrielle to dance with her maidens to 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


263 


his music; then again, presenting his lute to one of the 
women, he would himself mingle in the dance, ever taking 
occasion thereby to express some new act of devotion to 
his lady; then again, in the spacious halls of the castle, he 
wauld prepare martial exercises for his retainers, and 
Gabrielle would have some graceful reward to adjudge to 
the victor; often, too, he would himself join the circle of 
combatants, but so that he only met their attacks on the 
defensive, and thus deprived no one of the prize. Tlie 
Norwegians who stood round as spectators, used to com- 
pare him with the demi-god Baldur, a hero of their old 
traditions, who was wont to let the darts of his comrades 
be directed against him for amusement, conscious of his 
invulnerable nature and of his strength. 

Once at the close of one of these martial exercises, the 
old Kolf advanced toward Folko, and humbly beckoning 
him aside, said in a soft voice : They call you the 
glorious and mighty Baldur, and they are right. But even 
the glorious and mighty Baldur died at last. Take heed 
to yourself.^’ 

Folko looked at him with astonishment. 

It is not,^^ continued the old man, that I know of 
any treachery, or that I could even remotely forebode any. 
God keep a Norwegian from such a fear. But as you 
stand before me in all the splendor of your glory, the fleet- 
ingness of all earthly things forces itself powerfully upon 
me, and I cannot help saying to you: Take heed, oh, take 
heed, noble baron! The brightest glory comes to an end.” 

They are good and pious thoughts,” replied Folko, 
kindly, ‘^and I will treasure them in a pure heart, my 
faithful father.” 

The good Eolf was often with Folko and Gabrielle, and 
thus formed a link between the two widely different house- 
holds in the castle. For how could he ever have forsaken 
his own Sintram! Only in the wild hunting expeditions. 


364 


SINTRAM AND MIS COMPANIONS. 


through the raging storm and rain, he was no longer able 
to follow him. 

The bright winter had at last set in with all its majest3^ 
The return to Normandy was now in consequence im- 
peded, and the magical storm was lulled. Brilliantly 
shone the hills and plains in their hoary attire; and Folko, 
with skates on his feet, would often carry his lady 
swiftly as the wind in a light sledge over the crystal-like 
frozen lakes and streams. 

On the other hand, the bear-hunts of the lord of the 
castle and his son assumed a still more desperate, and to 
them, even more agreeable aspect. 

About this time — when Christmas was drawing near, and 
Sintram was endeavoring to drown his fear of his wonted 
dreams by the wildest hunting expeditions — about this 
time Folko and Gabrielle were standing together on one of 
the terraces of the castle. It was a mild evening; the 
snow-clad country was glowing with the red light of the 
setting sun; from below, in the armorer’s hall, might be 
heard men’s voices singing over their beautiful work, songs 
of ancient heroic times. At length, however, the singing 
ceased, the beat of the hammer died away, and without 
being able either to see the speakers or to distinguish them 
by their voices, the following conversation arose: 

Who is the boldest among all those who trace their 
origin to our noble land?” 

Folko of Montfaucon.” 

Eight, but tell me: is there then nothing from the 
performance of which even this great baron would not 
draw back?” 

^^Yes, indeed; there is one thing. And we, we who 
have always dwelt in Norway, pursue it gladly and 
readily.” 

‘‘And it is?” 

“ A bear-hunt in winter, down icy precipices and over 
trackhss plains of snow>” 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMB ANIONS. 


265 


Thou’rt right, my comrade. He who does not under- 
stand how to fasten our snow-shoes to his feet, nor how to 
turn on them in a moment to the right and left, may be 
indeed a mighty knight in other respects, but on our 
mountains and from our chase he is better away, tarrying 
with his pretty wife in her apartments. 

A laugh of satisfaction followed this remark, and the 
speakers then resumed their ponderous work. 

Folko remained for some time absorbed in thought. 
A glow, beyond that of the evening sky, reddened his 
cheek. Gabrielle too was silent, considering she knew not 
what. At last she recovered herself, and embracing her 
husband, she said: ^‘To-morrow, you will go, will you not, 
on the bear-hunt, and bring your lady home the spoils of 
the chase 

The knight bowed his assent with an air of gladness, 
and the rest of the evening was spent in dance and music. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

See, noble lord,” said Sintram the next morning, when 
Folko expressed his desire to accompany them, our snow- 
shoes, which we call sMerj give wings to our course, so 
that we go down the mountain-side with the swiftness of 
the wind, and ascend it again with a speed which no one 
can follow, and on the plain no horse can keep pace with 
us; but they are only safe for the most practiced hunts- 
man. It is as if some phantom-spirit dwelt in them, fear- 
fully fatal to one who has not learned to use them from 
childhood.” 

Folko replied somewhat proudly: Is this then the first 
time that I have been on your mountains? Years ago I 
joined in this sport, and, thank God, every knightly ex- 
ercise soon becomes familiar to me.” 


266 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Sintrani ventured no further remonstrance, and still less 
the old Biorn. Both, too, felt more relieved when they 
saw with what skill and assurance Folko buckled the skier 
on his feet; without allowing any one to assist him. The 
party went up the mountains in pursuit of a fierce bear, 
which they had often threatened in vain. They were soon 
obliged to separate, and Sin tram offered himself as com- 
panion to Folko. The baron, touched by the youth^s deep 
humility and devotion, forgot everything which had lately 
appeared to him mysterious in the pale confused being 
before him, and gave a ready assent. 

As they climbed higher and higher up the snowy 
mountain, overlooking from many a giddy peak the lower- 
lying crags and summits, which appeared like some ocean 
suddenly frozen or petrified by the wild storm, the noble 
Montfaucon drew his breath ever more freely and joy- 
ously. He sang war songs and love songs in the clear 
keen air, songs of his Frankish home, and the echo re- 
verberated from rock to rock as if with surprise at the 
sound. At the same time, he climbed the heights and 
glided down them again in merry sport, strongly and 
securely using the supporting staff, and turning right and 
left as the fancy seized him ; so that Sintram's former 
anxiety was changed into admiring astonishment, and 
the huntsmen, who still kept the baron in view, burst 
forth in loud applause, proclaiming far and wide the new 
achievements of their guest. 

The good fortune which almost always accompanied the 
noble Folko in his deeds of arms seemed disinclined to 
leave him even now. After a short search, he and Sint- 
ram found distinct traces of the animal, and with glad 
and beating hearts followed them so swiftly that even a 
winged foe could scarcely have escaped their pursuit. 
But the beast of whom they were in search had no idea of 
flight. He lay sulkily in a cavern near the top of an 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 267 

almost perpendicular rock, infuriated by the noise of the 
chase, and only awaiting in his lazy rage for some adver- 
sary to venture near enough for him to tear him to pieces. 
Folko and Sintram were now close by the rock, the rest 
were widely scattered over the mazy and dreary waste. 
The track led them upward, and the two companions 
climbed the rock on different sides, so that their prey 
could not escape them. Folko stood first on the solitary 
height and looked around him. 

A vast boundless tract of snow stretched out untrod- 
den before him, melting in the distance in the gloomy 
clouds of evening. He almost fancied that he had lost 
the track of the fearful beast. 

Suddenly a low growl issued from the rocky cleft near 
him, and black and clumsy the bear rose from the snow, 
stood on its hind legs, and then advanced toward the 
baron with glaring eyes. 

Sintram meanwhile was struggling in vain to ascend the 
rock, impeded by the masses of snow that were continually 
slipping down. 

Glad of a combat, so long untried as almost to be wholly 
new to him. Sir Folko of Montfaucon leveled his spear 
and awaited the attack of the monster. He suffered it to 
approach quite near, so tliat it could almost touch him 
with its fierce claws; then he made a thrust and buried 
his lance deep in the bear’s breast. But still the terrible 
beast pressed ever onward, howling and roaring, though 
the cross-iron of the spear kept him on his hind legs, and the 
knight was obliged to plant his feet firmly in the ground to 
resist the furious assault, while close before him was the 
horrible bloody face of the animal and close in his ear its 
hoarse growl, wrung forth partly in the agony of death, 
and partly from desire for blood. 

At last the bear’s furious power grew weaker, and the 
dark blood streamed richly over the snow. He tottered; 


268 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


one more powerful thrust threw him backward and hurled 
him down over the rocky precipices. At the same moment 
Sintram stood by the side of the baron of Montfaucon. 

Folko drew a deep breath, and said: “1 have not yet 
the prize of victory in my hands; and have it I must, so 
surely as I have succeeded in winning it. Only see, the 
shoe on my right foot seems to me injured. Do you think, 
Sintram, that it will hold for me to glide down over the 
precipice 

^‘Bather let me go,” said Sintram. will fetch you 
the bear’s head and claws.” 

""A true knight,” replied Folko, somewhat indignantly, 

does not do a knightly deed by halves. I only ask you 
whether my snow-shoes will hold.” 

Sintram bent down to look, and was on the point of 
saying no,” when suddenly a voice close beside them 
said: ^MYhy, yes, of course! there is no question about 
it!” Folko thought that Sintram had spoken, and glided 
down with the swiftness of an arrow, while his companion 
looked round with amazement. The hated form of the 
little master met his eye. 

He was just on the point of angrily accosting him when 
he heard the sound of the baron’s fearful fall, and stood 
speechless with horror. All was also silent and still in 
the abyss below. 

Now, what art thou waiting for?” said the little master 
after a pause. ‘^He has broken his neck; go home to the 
castle and take the beautiful Helen to thyself.” 

Sintram shuddered. His hideous companion then began 
to extol Gabrielle’s charms with such glowing, enchanting 
words that the youth felt his heart swell with a longing 
that he had never known before. He thought of his fallen 
comrade as nothing else than a partition removed between 
him and heaven, and he turned to the castle. 

Presently a call resounded from the abyss. My com- 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


269 


ratle, help! My comrade, help! I am still living, but I 
am sorely wounded.’^ 

Sintram was on the point of going down to him, and 
called out to the baron that he was coming; but the little 
master said: ‘'There is no help for the shattered Duke 
Menelaus, and the fair Helen knows it already. She is 
only waiting for Knight Paris to come to comfort her.” 
And with detestable cunning he interwove the legend into 
reality, introducing his highly wrought praises of the 
beautiful lady; and alas! the dazzled youth yielded to him 
and fled. 

Distinctly he still heard from afar the baron^s call : 
“Knight Sintram! Knight Sintram! thou on whom I be- 
stowed the holy order, haste tome and help me! The she- 
bear is coming with her whelps, and my arm is useless! 
Knight Sintram! Knight Sintram! hasten to me and help 
me!” 

His cry was drowned by the furious speed with which 
Sintram and his companion hurried along in their snow- 
shoes and by the evil words of the little master, who ridi- 
culed the pride with which Duke Menelaus had lately be- 
haved toward the poor Sintram. At length he cried out: 
“Good luck to you, Mrs. Bear! good luck to you, you 
young whelps! you will have a delicious meal I you will 
feed upon the terror of heathendom, upon him at whose 
name the Moorish brides weep, the great baron of Mont- 
faucon. Now no more, oh! thou dainty knight! now no 
more wilt thou shout at the head of thy troops: Mountjoy 
St. Denys!” 

But scarcely had this holy name passed the lips of the 
little master than he raised a howl of anguish, writhed 
himself in horrible contortions, and at length, moaning 
and wringing his hands, vanished away in a storm of snow. 

Sintram planted his staff in the ground and stood still. 
The vast expanse of snow, the distant mountains rising 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


above it, and the gloomy forests of fir — with what cold > e- 
proachfiil silence they all seemed to look at him! He felt 
as if he must sink under the weight of his misery and his 
guilt. The bell of a distant hermitage fell sadly on his 
ear. 

Bursting into tears in the increasing night, he exclaimed: 
^‘My mother I my mother! I had once a dear careful 
mother, and she said I was a good child 

Then he felt a thought of comfort wafted to him as by 
angels that perhaps Montfaucon was not yet dead ; and 
with the speed of lightning he fied back to the rock. 

Having reached the terrible place, he bent down over tlie 
precipice, looking anxiously. The moon, just rising in all 
her splendor, helped him with her light. 

There was the knight of Montfaucon, pale and bleeding, 
Vaniug, half-kneeling against the rock; his right arm hung 
crushed and powerless by his side; it was evident that he 
had not been able to draw his good sword from the scab- 
bard. And yet he was keeping the bear and her whelps at 
bay with his proud eye and threatening aspect, so that they 
only crept round him, growling angrily: ready indeed at 
any moment for a fierce attack, and yet again retreating 
affrighted before the majestic figure of the defenseless 
victor. 

'^Oh! what a hero might have perished here!" sighed 
Sintram; ‘^and alas! through whose fault." And in an 
instant he had hurled his spear with so true an aim that 
the bear fell weltering in its blood, and the young ones ran 
howling away. 

The baron looked up with surprise. His countenance 
shone with the light of the moon that beamed upon it, it 
looked grave and severe, and yet kindly, like some angelic 
vision. “ Come down!" he signed, and Sintram glided 
carefully and hastily down the precipice. He was about to 
attend to the wounded man, but Folko said: First take 


SINTRAM AND UIS COAfPANIONS. 


2n 

off the head and claws of the hear whicltl killed. I have 
promised my beautiful Gabrielle the spoils of the chase. 
Then come to me and bind up my wounds; my right arm 
is broken. 

Sin tram did as the baron bade him. When the tokens 
of victory had been taken, and the fractured arm bound 
up, Folko desired the youth to assist him back to the 
castle. 

Oh, if I only dared to look you in the face!’^ said Sin- 
tram in a low voice, ^^or if I only knew how to approach 
you 

Thou wert indeed on a very evil course, replied 
Montfaucon, gravely, ^^but how should we men stand at 
all before God, if repentance did not help us! Thou must 
always be he who saved my life, and let that thought bring 
thee comfort. 

The youth supported the baron gently and vigorously on 
nis way, and both advanced silently in the moonlight. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

SouKDS of wailing met them from the castle as they ap- 
proached; the chapel was solemnly lighted up; within it 
knelt Gabrielle, sorrowing for the death of the knight of 
Montfaucon. 

But how quickly was all changed, when the noble baron 
pale and bloody it is true, but escaped from all mortal peril, 
stood smilingly at the entrance of the holy building, and 
said in a soft, gentle voice: Calm thyself, Gabrielle, and 
do not be frightened at seeing me, for, by the honor of my 
race, thy knight lives. 

Oh! with what joy did Gabrielle^s eyes sparkle as she 
looked at her knight, and then raised them again to heaven, 
still streaming with tears, but from the blessed source of 


272 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


grateful joy! Witii tlie help of two pages, Folko sunk on 
his knees beside her, and both sanctified their happiness in 
silent prayer. 

When they left the chapel, the wounded knight carefully 
supported by his beautiful lady, Sintram was standing in 
the darkness without, gloomy as the night, and shy as the 
nocturnal birds. Yet he stepped tremblingly forward in 
the light of the torches, laid the bear’s head and claws at 
Gabrielle’s feet, and said: These are the spoils of to-day’s 
chase, brought by the noble baron of Montfaucon for his 
lady.” The Norwegians burst forth in shouts and accla- 
mations at the stranger knight, who at his very first bunt- 
ing expedition had slain the most splendid and fearful of 
all the beasts of prey on their mountains. Then Folko 
looked smilingly round the circle, and said: Now, how- 
ever, there are some of you who must not laugh again at 
me, if I stay at home sometimes with a pretty wife.” 
But those who had spoken the day before in the armorer’s 
hall, came forward, bowing ^ow, and replied: Noble sir, 
who could suppose that there was no knightly exercise in 
the whole world in which you would not show 3"ourself 
mighty above all other men?” 

‘^Something may be expected of the pupil of old 
Sir Hugh,” returned Folko, kindly. “But now, brave 
northern heroes, praise my deliverer, also, for he rescued 
me from the claws of the she-bear, when I was leaning 
against the rock, wounded with my fall.” 

He pointed to Sintram, and the general shout of rejoic- 
ing again burst forth, and the old Eolf bowed his head 
over his foster-son’s hand, with tears of joy sparkling in 
his eyes. 

But Sintram drew back shudderingly. “ Did you know,” 
he said, “ whom you have before you, all your lances would 
be leveled at my breast, and perhaps that would be the 
best thing for me. Yet I spare the honor of my father and 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 273 

of his race, and for this time I will not confess. Only so 

much, noble Norwegians, must you know ” 

""Young man,"' interrupted Folko, with a look of 
reproof, "" again so fierce and bewildered? I desire thee to 
be silent respecting thy dreaming fancies." Sintram at first 
obeyed the baron's order, but scarcely had the latter begun 
smilingly to ascend the castle steps, than he cried out: 
""Oh no, thou noble wounded hero, stay awhile! I will 
serve thee in everything that thy heart can desire ; but in 
this 1 cannot serve thee. Ye noble Norwegians so much 
you shall and must know, that I am no longer worthy to 
tarry under the same roof with the great Folko of Mont- 
faucon and his angelic wife Gabrielle. And you, my aged 
father, good-night, and calm your longing for me. I 
intend to live in the stone castle on the Moon Eocks until 
things are in some way altered with me." 

There was something in his words which no one could 
venture to oppose, not even Folko. The wild Biorn 
bowed his head humbly and said: "" Do according to thy 
pleasure, my poor son, for I fear that thou art right." 

Then Sintram walked solemnly and silently through the 
castle-gate, the good Rolf following him. Gabrielle led her 
exhausted lord up to his own apartments. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

It was a sad journey that of the youth and his aged 
foster-father to the Moon-Rocks, through the wild tangled 
paths of the valleys thick with snow and ice. Rolf now 
and then sang verses of hymns in which the repentant 
sinner is promised comfort and peace, and Sintram thanked 
him for them with looks of grateful sadness. Otherwise 
neither of them spoke a single word. 

At last — it was already nearing dawn — Sintram broke 


274 


SIJVTJiAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


the long silence by saying: ^‘Who are those two sitting 
there by the frozen stream? There is a tall man and a 
little one. Their own wild hearts have doubtless driven 
them also into the wilderness. Kolf, do you know them? 
I feel a dread of them.-’^ 

“ Sir/^ answered the old man, ^^your disturbed mind 
leads you astray. There is a tall fir-tree, and a little 
weather-beaten stump of an old oak, half -covered with 
snow, which gives it a strange appearance. There are no 
men sitting there. 

^‘Eolf, look there then! look again carefully. They are 
moving — they are whispering together!*^ 

Sir, the morning wind moves the branches and rustles 
among the needle -pine leaves, and among the yellow oak 
leaves and blows up the crisp snow.'’^ 

Eolf, now they are both coming toward us; they are 
now standing quite close before us."*^ 

Sir, it is we who in walking are approaching them, 
and the setting moon casts such quaint-like shadows across 
the valley.'’^ 

“Good-evening,^^ said a hollow voice, and Sintram 
recognized the crazy pilgrim, by whose side stood the 
malicious little master, looking more horrible than ever. 

“You were right, sir knight,” whispered Eolf, drawing 
behind Sintram, and making the sign of the cross on his 
breast and forehead. 

The bewildered youth, however, advanced toward the two 
figures, and said: “You have always shown a marvelous 
pleasure in being my companions. What do you expect 
from it? And do you desire now to go with me to the 
stone fortress? I will tend thee there, poor pale pilgrim; 
and thee, horrible little master, most malicious of dwarfs, 
I will make thee shorter by a head as a reward for thy 
deeds yesterday.” 

“ That would be a thing,” laughed the little master. 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


275 


^^And thou woiildst imagine, perhaps, that thou hadst 
done a great service to the whole world! Yet indeed, who 
knows! Something might be gained by it. Only, poor 
fellow, thou canst not do it.^^ 

The pilgrim meanwhile was bowing his pale head to and 
fro thoughtfully, and saying : I really believe thou 

wouldst gladly have me, and I too should gladly come, 
but I may not yet. Have patience awhile; come, I surely 
will, but at a distant time, and first we must together visit 
thy father, and then thou wilt also learn, poor friend, to 
call me by my name.” 

Take heed of thwarting me again!” said the little 
master, threateningly, to the pilgrim; but he, pointing with 
his long withered hand toward the sun just rising, said: 
^^Stay either that sun or me, if thou canst!” 

The first rays just then fell upon the snow, and the 
little master ran muttering down a precipice; the pilgrim, 
however, walked on calmly and solemnly in the bright 
beams toward a neighboring mountain-castle. Not long 
after, the chapel -bell was heard tolling for the dead. 

For heaven’s sake,” whispered the good Eolf to his 
knight, for heaven’s sake. Sir Sintram, what sort of 
companions have you? The one cannot bear the light of 
God’s beautiful sun, the other scarcely enters a dwelling 
before the death-knell follows his footsteps. Can he perhaps 
have been a murderer?” 

I do not think so,” said Sintram. ^^He seems to me 
the best of the two. Only that he will not come to me is 
a strange piece of willfulness. Did I not invite him 
kindly? I imagine he sings well, and he should have 
sung some lullaby to me. Since my mother went into 
the cloister, no one sings me any more cradle songs.” 

His eyes were bedewed with tears at the tender recollec- 
tion. But he did not know himself what he had said 
besides, for his mind was wild and confused. 


276 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 

They were approaching the Moon Kocks, and they 
ascended toward the stone fortress. The castellan, an 
old gloomy man, especially devoted to the young knight 
from his melancholy and dark wild deeds, hastened to 
let down the draw-bridge. Silently they exchanged greet- 
ings, and silently did Sintram enter, and the joyless portals 
closed with a crash behind the future anchorite. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Yes, indeed, an anchorite, or at least something but 
little more social, did the poor Sintram now soon become! 
For toward the approaching holy Cliristmas festival his 
fearful dreams attacked him, and seized him this time so 
terribly that all the squires and servants fled screaming 
from the castle and would not venture back again. No 
one remained with him but Rolf and the old castellan. 

Sintram, indeed, grew quiet again, but he went about 
looking so pale and still that he might have been taken 
for a moving corpse. Xo consolation from the good Rolf, 
no devout and pleasing song any longer availed to help; 
and the castellan, with his wild, scarred face, his head 
almost bald from some monstrous sword-cut, and his 
stubborn silence, was almost like a yet darker shadow of 
the unhappy knight. Rolf thought of summoning the 
holy chaplain of Drontheim, but how could he have left 
his master all alone with the gloomy castellan — a man who 
had at all times excited in him a secret feeling of dread. 
Biorn had long had the wild strange warrior in his service, 
and he honored him on account of his steady fldelity and 
his immense valor, without the knight or any one else 
knowing whence the castellan came and who he really was. 
Indeed, few people knew by what name to call him, but 
the knowledge seemed needless, as he never entered into 


SINTRAM AND UIS COMPANIONS. 




conversation with any one. He was just the castellan of 
the stone castle on the Moon Rocks, and nothing further. 

Rolf committed his deep heart-felt cares to the merciful 
God, believing that He would help him, and the merciful 
God did help him. 

For it was just on Christmas eve that the bell at the 
draw-bridge sounded, and when Rolf looked over the battle- 
ments, he saw the chaplain of Drontheim standing without, 
in strange company indeed, for by his side appeared the 
crazy pilgrim, and the dead men^s bones on his dark 
mantle shone quite awfully in the glimmering starlight; 
but the presence of the chaplain filled the old Rolf with too 
much joy to allow much room for doubt; besides, 
thought he, whoever comes with him must be welcome!’^ 
and so he admitted them both with respectful haste, and 
conducted them up to the hall where Sintram was sitting 
pale and motionless under the light of a single flickering 
lamp. Rolf was obliged to support aad help the crazy pil- 
grim up the stairs, for he was quite benumbed with cold. 

I bring you a greeting from your mother,*^ said the 
chaplain as he entered, and a sweet smile at once passed 
over the young knighFs countenance, and its deadly pallor 
gave place to a soft glow of red. Oh heaven he mur- 
mured, ‘^does my mother then still live, and does she wish 
also to know anything of me?’^ 

“ She is endowed with a great and mighty power of pre- 
sentiment,^^ replied the chaplain; ^‘and whatever you 
either do or leave undone is mirrored in her mind — half- 
waking and half-dreaming — in many wonderful visions. 
She now knows of your deep sorrow, and she sends me, the 
father-confessor of her convent, hither to comfort yon, but 
also at the same time to warn you, for as she asserts, and 
as I am inclined to believe, many and severe trials lie 
before you.” 

Sintram bowed, holding his arms still crossed over his 


m 


SmTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


breast, and said with a gentle smile: Much has been 

vouchsafed to me, more than I had ventured to hope in my 
boldest moments, ten thousand times more by my mother’s 
greeting and your consolation, reverend sir; and all this 
after a fall more great and terrible than I have ever had 
before. The mercy of the Lord is great, and however 
severe the burden He may send for trial and expiation, I 
hope with His help to be able to bear it.” 

Just then the door opened, and the castellan entered 
with a torch, the red glare of which crimsoned his counte- 
nance. He looked terrified at the crazy pilgrim, who 
had just sunk fainting on a seat, supported and tended 
by Eolf; then he stared as if with amazement at the 
chaplain, and at length murmured : Strange meeting ! 

I believe the hour for confession and reconciliation is 
arrived.” 

‘‘ I believe so too,” replied the holy father, who had 
heard the whispered words. It seems, indeed, to be a 
day rich in grace and peace. This poor fellow here, whom 
I found half-frozen by the way, was more anxious to con- 
fess to me at once than to follow me to a hospitable hearth; 
do as he has done, my dark, fiery warrior, and delay not 
your good intention for one instant.” So saying he left 
the room with the castellan, and, turning back at the door, 
exclaimed: Knight and squire! take good care, mean- 

while, of my sick charge.” 

Sintram and Eolf did as the chaplain desired, and when 
at length their cordials so revived the pilgrim that he 
opened his eyes again, the young knight said, wnth a 
friendly smile: ^^Seest thou, now thou’st come to visit me 
after all. Why didst thou refuse me when I invited thee j 
so earnestly a few nights ago? I may have spoken, per- ; 
haps, somewhat wildly and hastily. Possibly thou wast | 
thus frightened away.” * 

A sudden expression of fear passed over the pilgrim’s I 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


279 


countenance, but he immediately looked up again at Sin- 
tram with gentle humility, and said: ‘‘Oh dear, dear sir, 
I am most thoroughly devoted to yon. Only do not speak 
always of the things which may have happened between 
you and me. It terrifies me whenever you do it. For, sir, 
either I am mad and have forgotten everything, or you 
met in the forest him whom I look upon as my most 
mighty twin-brother 

Sintram laid his hand gently on the pilgrim^s lips, and 
replied: “Do not say any more on the matter. I will 
gladly promise to be silent. Neither he nor old Kolf 
could understand why the whole thing appeared to them 
so awful, but they both trembled. 

After a pause the pilgrim began: “ I would rather sing 
you a song, a gentle consoling song. Have you not a lute 
at hand?’^ 

Kolf fetched one, and the pilgrim, half-raising himself 
on the arm-chair, sang the following words: 


“ When the last end draweth nigh, 

And heart and limbs are failing fast, 
Then look on high. 

Then turn above thy prayerful eye; 

At Heaven’s gate 
Of mercy wait. 

That God may help thee at the last. 

“ Seest thou how the East is gleaming? 
Hear’st thou the bright angels singing 
In the rosy blush of morn ? 

Thou wert so long in darkness dreaming, 
And death is now a succor bringing. 

On mercy’s pinions borne. 

Thou must give him kindly greeting. 
And he cometh as a friend. 

And by his welcome joyous meeting, 
Placeth penance at an end, 


280 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


“ When the last end draweth nigh, 

And heart and limbs are failing fast, 

Then look on high. 

Then turn above thy prayerful eye; 

At Heaven’s gate 
Of mercy wait. 

That God may help thee at the last.” 

^^Amen!” said Sintram and Eolf, folding their hands, 
and as the last notes of the lute died away, the chaplain 
slowly and softly entered the hall with the castellan. 

I bring you a precious Christmas gift,” said the holy 
father. ^^After a long and bitter interval, peace of con- 
science and reconciliation are returning to a noble dis- 
turbed mind. It concerns thee, dear pilgrim; and Sintram, 
do thou, w'ith joyful trust in God, take a refreshing ex- 
ample from it.” 

‘‘More than twenty years ago,” began the castellan, at 
a sign from the chaplain; “more than twenty years ago, I 
was driving my sheep up the mountains as a bold shepherd; 
a young knight followed me, whom they called Weigand 
the Slender; he wanted to buy my favorite lamb for his 
lovely bride, and he offered me plenty of glittering gold 
for it. I sturdily refused him. Impetuous youth was 
boiling within us both — a stroke of his sword hurled me 
senseless down the precipice.” 

“Not killed?” cried the pilgrim, in a scarcely audible 
voice. 

“I am no ghost,” replied the castellan, grimly; and 
then at a serious sign from the holy father, he continued 
in a more humble tone: 

“ I recovered slowly and in solitude, by the use of those 
remedies which were easily found by me, a shepherd, in 
our rich valleys. When I came forth again no one recog- 
nized me with my scarred face and my bald head. I heard 
a report through the country that on account of that deed 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


281 


Weigand the Slender had been rejected by his beautiful 
betrothed Verena, that he had pined away, and that she 
had wished to retire into a convent, but that her father 
had persuaded her to marry the great Knight Bidrn. 
Then a terrible desire for vengeance came into my heart, 
and I disowned my name and kindred and home, and as a 
strange wild man I entered the service of the mighty Biorn, 
thus sulfering Weigand the Slender ever to be regarded as 
a murderer, and feasting on his anguish. So have I 
feasted on it, therefore, through all these long years; 
frightfully feasting on the idea of his self-banishment, of 
his cheerless return home, and of his madness. But 
to-day — and a gush of hot tears fell from his eyes — 
“ to-day God has broken the hardness of my heart, and 
dear Sir Knight Weigand, look upon yourself no longer as 
a murderer, and say that you will pardon me, and pray for 

him who has so terribly wronged you, and ” 

Sobs choked his words. He fell down at the feet of the 
pilgrim, who embraced him with tears of joy and forgave 
him. 


CHAPTEK XXL 

The elevated feelings of this hour passed from their 
holy and overpowering enthusiasm to the calm thoughtful 
aspect of daily life, and Weigand having now recovered, 
laid aside his mantle with the dead men’s bones, saying: 
“I chose as a penance to carry these fearful remains 
about with me in the idea that some of them might belong 
to him whom I had murdered. Hence I sought for them 
deep in the beds of the mountain-torrents, and high up 
among the nests of the eagles and vultures. And in my 
search it seemed to me sometimes — could it have been only 
an illusion? — it seemed to me as if I met a being almost 


282 


SINTEAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


like myself, but far, far more powerful, and yet still more 
pale and still more haggard/’ 

An imploring glance from Sintram checked the flow of 
his words. Smiling gently, Weigand bent over him, and 
said: 

You now know the deep, the unutterably deep sorrow 
which has been gnawing at my heart. My shyness of you, 
and my hearty love for you, will no longer be a riddle to 
your warm and kindly feelings. For, young man, how- 
ever much you may resemble your fearful father, you have 
your mother’s gentle heart, and its reflection brightens 
your pale, severe features, like the rosy morning that 
casts its soft gleams of light over ice-covered mountains 
and snowy valleys. And alas! how long have you lived 
alone within yourself, though amid crowds of human 
beings! And how long now since you have seen your 
mother, my poor, dearly-loved Sintram?” 

I feel though,” replied the youth, as if a spring were 
gushing up in the barren wilderness; and I should per- 
haps be completely restored could I only longer retain you 
and weep with you, my dear sir. But I have already a 
sense within me that you will now soon be taken from 
me.” 

‘‘1 believe truly,’' said the pilgrim, ^Hhat my late song 
will be almost my last, and that it contained a prediction 
to be very very speedily fulfilled in me. But oh! as the 
soul of man is like an ever-thirsty soil — the more blessings 
bestowed on us by God, the more imploringly do we look 
for new ones — I would crave for yet one thing more before 
the blessed end I hope for comes. It will not indeed be 
granted me,” he continued, with a failing voice, ^‘for I 
feel myself too unworthy for so high a gift.” 

It will nevertheless be granted you I” said the chaplain, 
in a loud and joyful tone. ‘He that humbleth himself 
shall be exalted;’ and I may surely venture to take one 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 283 

purified from murder to receive a farewell from Verena's 
holy and forgiving countenance.” 

The pilgrim stretched both his hands up to heaven, and 
an unspoken prayer of gratitude poured from his beaming 
eyes and from the happy smile upon his lips. Sintram, 
however, looked sadly down, and whispered softly to him- 
self: Ah! could I but go with him!” 

‘‘Poor, good Sintram,” said the chaplain, in a kind and 
gentle tone; “ I have heard thy desire, but the time is not 
yet come. The powers of evil within thee may yet raise 
their wrathful heads, and Verena must restrain both her 
own and thy longing desire, until all is pure within thy 
spirit as it is in hers. Console thyself therefore with the 
thought that God is inclining toward thee, and that the 
longed-for peace will come — if not here, assuredly beyond 
the grave.” 

But the pilgrim, as if awaking from some trance of rap- 
ture, rose mightily from his seat, and said: “ Will it please 
you to come forth with me. Sir Chaplain? Before the sun 
appears in the sky we can be at the convent gates; and 
even I shall be closely nearing heaven.” 

It was in vain that both the chaplain and Rolf repre- 
sented to him his weariness; he smiled and said that there 
could be no talk of that now, and he girded himself and 
tuned the lute, which he requested to take with him as a 
companion by the way. His decided manner overcame all 
opposition, almost without words; and the chaplain had 
already prepared himself for the journey, when with much 
emotion the pilgrim looked at Sintram, who had fallen 
half-asleep on a couch, oppressed with a strange weariness, 
and said: “ Wait a while. I know he desires a soft lullaby 
from me before we go.” The youth’s grateful smile 
seemed to say “ Yes;” and the pilgrim, touching the 
strings with a light finger, sang : 


284 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


“ Sleep calmly, gentle boy! 

To soothe thy tranquil slumbers. 

Thy mother sends to thee 

The song’s beguiling numbers. 

In silence and afar, 

For thee she fondly prayeth, 

And yearneth to be with thee. 

Although the time delayeth. 

“ And when thou dost awake. 

Give heed in all thou sayest. 

In every act and deed 

That thou her words obeyest. 

Oh ! hear thy mother’s voice. 

Each yea, each nay, that’s spoken. 

And though temptation lurk. 

Thy path is still unbroken. 

“If thou dost rightly hearken. 

Upon thine onward going, 

Thy youthful brow will feel 
Full many a zephyr blowing. 

And on thy peaceful course, 

Thou’lt know her fervent blessing, 

And feel, though far divided. 

The mother’s fond caressing. 

“ Oh blessed light of life! 

Mysterious consolation ! 

Whose heavenly power dispels 
Each dread imagination. 

Sleep calmly, gentle boy! 

To soothe thy tranquil slumbers. 

Thy mother sends to thee 

The song’s beguiling numbers.” 

Sintram slept with a smile on his countenance, and 
breathing softly. Eolf and the castellan remained sitting 
by his bedside, while the two travelers pursued their way 
in a mild starlight night. 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


285 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Day had nearly dawned, when Rolf who had been sleep- 
ing a little woke at the sound of some low singing, and on 
looking round he perceived with astonishment that it came 
from the lips of the castellan. The latter said, as if in 
explanation, Sir Weigand is now singing this at the con- 
vent gate, and they are opening to him kindly, upon 
which the old Rolf again fell asleep, uncertain whether he 
had heard it waking, or in a dream. 

After a while, however, the bright sunlight awakened 
him again, and when he rose up he saw the face of the 
castellan wonderfully illuminated by the rosy morning 
beams, and the whole countenance of the once fearful man 
shone with a kindly, nay almost child-like mildness. At 
the same time the strange man seemed listening in the 
quiet air as if he were hearing some most delightful dis- 
course or glorious music, and when Rolf was on the point 
of speaking he signed to him entreatingly to be quiet, 
and remained absorbed in the same listening attitude. 

At length he sank back slowly and contentedly in his 
seat, whispering: Thank God she has granted his last 
request; he will be laid in the convent burial-ground, and 
now he has also forgiven me in the depth of his heart. I 
can tell you, his end is truly peaceful.'’^ 

Rolf did not venture to ask a question, nor to awaken 
his master; he felt as if one already departed were speak- 
ing to him. 

The castellan remained for some time still, and a bright 
smile spread over his face. At length he raised himself 
up a little, listened again, and said: "'It is over, the bells 
sound very sweetly, we have overcome. Oh ! how soft 
and easy does the good God make it!” 

And so it was. He stretched hii .iself wearily back, and 
his soul was freed from his careworn body. 


286 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Kolf now gently awakened his young knight, and 
pointed to the smiling dead. Sintram smiled too; and he 
and his good squire fell on their knees and prayed to God 
for the departed spirit. Then they rose, and bore the 
cold body into the vaulted hall, and watched by it with 
consecrated tapers until the chaplain should return. 
That the pilgrim would not come again, they knew well. 

Toward midday the chaplain came back alone. He 
could only confirm what they already knew. He only 
added a comforting and hopeful greeting from Sintram^s 
mother to her son, and told how the happy Weigand had 
fallen asleep like a weary child, while Verena had ever 
held the crucifix before him with calm tenderness. 

“ That God may lielp thee at the last,” 

sang Sintram softly to himself, and they prepared a last 
resting-place for the now peaceful castellan, and solemnly 
lowered him into it with all the customary rites. The 
chaplain was obliged to leave immediately afterward, but 
at parting he again said kindly to Sintram: Thy dear 
mother surely knows how gentle, calm and good thou now 
artr 


CHAPTER XXHI. 

In the castle of the Knight Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, 
Christmas Eve had not been kept so purely and happily, 
but nevertheless God's will had been clearly manifested 
even there. 

Eolko, at the request of the lord of the castle, had al- 
lowed himself to be supported by Gabrielle into the hall, 
and the three were sitting at the round stone table over a ! 
sumptuous repast, while at long tables on each side sat | 
the retainers of both knights in full armor, according to | 
Norwegian custom. The lofty apartment was almost 
dazzled with the light of tapers and lamps. 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


2S7 


The dee23 night had already begun its solemn reign, and 
Gabrielle softly reminded her wounded knight to with- 
draw. Biorn heard the reminder and said: ‘‘You are 
quite right, fair lady; our knight needs rest; only let us 
first not neglect an old and venerable custom.” 

And at a sign from him four of his warriors brought in 
with solemn pomp a great boar, which looked as if it were 
made of solid gold, and placed it in the center of the stone 
table. Biorn^s retainers rose reverentially, placing their 
helmets under their arms, and the lord of the castle him- 
self did the same. 

“ What is meant by this?” inquired Folko, very gravely. 

“ What thine ancestors and mine have done on every 
yule-feast,” replied Biorn; “we are going to make vows 
on Friga^s boar, and then let the goblet go round.” 

“ What our ancestors called yule-feast,” said Folko, “ we 
do not keep. We are good Christians, and we celebrate 
the holy Christmas-tide.” 

“We may do the one and not leave the other undone,” 
answered Biorn. “ My ancestors are too dear to me for 
me to forget their knightly customs. He who regards it 
otherwise may act according to his own wisdom, but that 
shall not hinder me. I swear by this golden boar,” and he 
stretched out his hand to lay it solemnly upon it. 

But Folko of Montfaucon called out, “Hold! in the 
name of our holy Saviour! Where I am and while I can 
still breath and will, no one shall celebrate undisturbed the 
rites of wild heathens.” 

Biorn of the Fiery Eyes looked at him fiercely. The 
retainers of both knights separated amid the sound of 
rattling armor, and arranged themselves in two bands, each 
behind their leader, on either side of the hall. And 
already here and there helmets and casques were buckled on. 

“ Consider what thou art doing,” said Biorn. “ I desired 
eternal and true union, ay, I was on the point of vowing 


288 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


grateful fealty to the house of Montfaucon, but if thou 
interferest with me in the customs which have descended 
to me from my fathers, see to thy head and to all that is 
dear to thee. My anger no longer knows any bounds."" 

Folko signed to the pale Gabrielle to withdraw behind 
his retainers, and said to her: Courage and joy, noble 
lady! Many weaker Christians, for God"s sake and that of 
the holy church, have braved greater perils than those that 
now seem to threaten us. Believe me it is not so easy a 
matter to ensnare the Baron of Montfaucon."" 

Gabrielle drew back at Folko"s order, somewhat quieted 
by the bold smile of her lord; but this very smile inflamed 
Biorn"s anger still more. He again stretched out his hand 
toward the boar, and was on the point of uttering a ter- 
rible vow, when the baron snatched an iron gauntlet of 
Bibrn"s from the table, and with his unwounded left arm 
struck such a powerful blow with it at the golden image 
that dashed in twain it fell crashing to the ground. The 
lord of the castle and his followers stood around as if 
petrified. 

Armed hands quickly seized their weapons, shields were 
lifted from the walls, and an angry, fiercely threatening 
murmur passed though the hall. At a sign from Folko 
one of his faithful followers reached him a battle ax, and 
swinging it high with his mighty left arm he stood like an 
avenging angel in the midst of the hall, and uttered these 
words through the tumult with the composure of a judge: 

^^What wilt thou, infatuated Norwegian? What dost 
thou desire, thou sinful lord ; ye are indeed become 
heathens, and I hope to show you by my readiness for 
combat, that in my one uninjured arm has my God placed 
strength for victory. If ye can yet hear, listen to my 
words! Upon this same accursed boar’s image, now by 
God’s help shattered to pieces, hast thou, Bibrn, laid thino 
hand, when thou didst swear to destroy every man from 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 289 

the sea-ports who might chance to fall into thy power. 
And Gotthard Lenz came, and Itudlieb came, driven by 
the tempest to your shore. What didst thou then do, thou 
savage Biorn? What did ye do in compliance with him, 
ye, who were with him at the yule-feast? Try your ut- 
most on me! The Lord will be with me as He was with 
those good men. Forward! to arms!^’ and he turned to- 
ward his warriors. Let Gotthard and Rudlieb be our 
battle-cry!"^ 

Biorn let his drawn sword drop, his warriors were 
hushed, and not an eye in the Norwegian host was raised 
from the ground. At length, one after another, they began 
softly to slip away. At last, Biorn alone stood opposite the 
baron and his followers. He seemed, however, scarcely to 
perceive his deserted condition, but sinking on his knees, 
he stretched out his gleaming sword, pointed to the shat- 
tered boar and said : 

Do with me as you have done with that. I have de- 
served nothing better. Only one thing I implore, only 
one; do not inflict on me the shame, great baron, of re- 
pairing to another Norwegian fortress."" 

I fear you not,"" replied Folko, after some reflection, 
'^and so far as it can be, I pardon you gladly."" So saying 
he drew the sign of the cross over the wild form of Biorn 
of the Fiery Eyes, and allowed Gabrielle to conduct him 
to his apartments. The retainers of the house of Mont- 
faucon followed him proudly and silently. 

The hard spirit of the grim lord of the castle was now 
entirely broken, and with increased humility he awaited 
every look of Folko and of Gabrielle. They, however, with- 
drew more and more into the cheerful society of their own 
apartments, where even in the midst of the icy northern 
winter they enjoyed a spring-tide of happiness. The 
W'ounded condition of the baron did not hinder the evening 
amusements of tale, and lute, and song; far rather it 


290 


SINTMAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


afforded a new and charming picture, when the handsome 
tall knight leaned on the arm of the delicate lady, and 
thus reversing their bearing and duties, they would 
wander together through the torch-lit halls, scattering 
their kindly greetings like flowers among the assembled 
men and women. Little or no mention was now ever 
made of the poor Sintram. The last wild behavior of his 
father had increased the terror with which Gabrielle had 
remembered the self-accusation of the youth, and just be- 
cause Folko was so immovably silent on the matter did 
she all the more forbode some fearful mystery. Indeed, a 
secret shudder came even over the baron when he thought 
of the pale, black-haired youth. His repentance had 
almost bordered on flxed despair, and no one knew what he 
was doing in the ill-renowned stone fortress on the Moon 
Eocks. Mysterious rumors came from the fugitive retain- 
ers, of how the evil spirit had now gained complete domin- 
ion over Sintram, that no one could any longer stay with 
him, and that the strange, gloomy castellan had paid for 
his adherence to him with his life. Folko could scarcely 
resist the fearful suspicion that the solitary youth had be- 
come a hardened magician. 

And truly, many evil spirits did flutter round the ban- 
ished man, but it was without a summons from himself. 
It often seemed to him in his dreams as if the wicked en- 
chantress Venus were hovering over the battlements of tlie 
fortress in a golden chariot drawn by winged cats, and 
calling scornfully to him: ‘‘Foolish Sintram! foolish Sin- 
tram! hadst thou but obeyed the little master! thou 
wouldst now be lying in Helen's arms, and the Moon 
Eocks would be the rocks of love, and the stone fortress 
would be the castle of roses. Thou wouldst have lost thy 
pale face and thy dark hair — for thou art only bewitched, 
dear youth — and thine eyes would have shone more mildly, 
thy cheeks more blooming than ever the world admired in 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


291 


the Knight Paris. Oh! how Helen would have loved 
thee!'^ Then she would show him in a mirror how he 
looked as he knelt before Gabrielle, as a handsome knight, 
and how she, softly blushing, had fallen into his arms. 

When he awoke from such visions he would seize eagerly 
the sword and scarf, once given him by his lady, just as 
some shipwrecked man grasps the planks of safety, and he 
would weep hot tears over them, and whisper secretly to 
himself: ‘‘So there was indeed one single hour in my 
miserable life when I was worthy and happy.^^ 

Once he started up at midnight from a similar dream, 
but this time with thrilling terror, for it had seemed to 
him as if the beautiful alluring features of the enchantress 
Yenus had become distorted at the end of her speech by 
the scorn with which she glanced down upon him, and 
that now she looked almost like the terrible little master. 

The youth could never calm his disturbed mind better 
than by throwing the sword and scarf of Gabrielle across 
his shoulders and hurrying forth under the solemn starry 
expanse of the wintry sky. Beneath the leafless oaks and 
the snow-laden firs, which grew upon the high ramparts, 
he would wander up and down absorbed in thought. 

Once it seemed as if a melancholy groan sounded from 
the moat below, as if some one were at times attempting 
to sing, but could not from inward grief. Upon SintranPs 
exclaiming, “ Who^s there all was still. But when he was 
silent and began to walk again the fearful meanings broke 
forth anew as from some dying person. 

Sintram overcame the horror, which seemed all-powerful 
to restrain him, and clambered silently down to the dry 
moat which was cut in the rock. He was already so deep 
within it that he could no longer see the stars shining; 
beneath him he perceived a shrouded figure moving; and 
with involuntary rapidity he suddenly slid down the 
steep descent and stood by the side of the groaning form. 


2n SINTRA M AND NTS COMPANIONS. 

The lamentations at once ceased, and a laugh like that of 
a maniac came from the wide fold of the female garments: 
^^Ho ho! my comrade! Ho ho! my comrade! That was 
a little too quick for thee! Well, well, so it is, and see 
now thou standest after all no higher than I, my good 
valiant youth. Take it patiently, take it patiently. 

What dost thou want with me? Why dost thou laugh? 
Why dost thou groan?” inquired Sintram, impatiently. 

‘‘I might ask thee the same,” replied the dark figure, 
and thou wouldst be far less able to answer me than I 
am to answer thee. MVhy dost thou laugh? Why dost 
thou weep — poor fellow!’ But I will show thee one re- 
markable thing in thy stone fortress of which thou as yet 
knowest nothing. Give heed !” 

And the mantled figure scratched and scraped at the 
stones, and a little iron door opened, revealing a dark 
passage which led into profound darkness. 

“ Wilt thou come with me?” whispered the strange being. 
It leads to thy father’s castle by the shortest way. In 
half an hour we shall be out of it, and it opens into the 
sleeping apartment of thy beautiful lady. Duke Menelaus 
shall lie in a magic sleep; leave that to me. And then 
thou canst take the delicate and slender form in thine 
arms and bear her here to the Moon Rocks, and thou wilt 
win back all that seemed lost by thy former wavering.” 

Sintram visibly trembled, fearfully overwhelmed with 
passion, and yet feeling the stings of conscience. But at 
last, pressing scarf and sword to his heart, he exclaimed: 

Oh that fairest, most glorious hour of my life! Let all 
other joys be lost, that bright hour I will ever hold fast!” 

N fair, bright hour!” said a scornful voice beneath the 
veil, like some evil echo, Knowst thou then whom thou 
didst conquer? A good old friend, who only showed him- 
self so furious, that he might at last increase thy glory in 
his overthrow! Wilt thou convince thyself? Wilt thou 
look ?’ 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


293 


And the dark garments of the little figure flew open, and 
there stood before him the dwarf-like warrior in the strange 
armor, the golden horns on his helmet, the carved spear in 
his hand, the very same whom Sintram thought he had 
slain on Niflung’s Heath, and laughing, he exclaimed : 

Thou seest, my youth, in the whole wide world there is 
nothing but dream and froth: so hold fast the dream whicli 
delights thee, and sip the froth which refreshes thee. Now 
then for the subterranean passage! It leads up to thy angel 
Helen. Or wouldst thou like first to know thy friend still 
better?” 

His visor opened, and the hideous face of the little 
master met the knight^s gaze, who asked, as if half in a 
dream: ^^Art thou perhaps also that wicked enchantress, 
Venus?” 

‘‘ The same block 1” said the little master, laughing, 
^^or rather she is from the same block as I am. Only 
manage that thou art disenchanted and transformed back 
into the beautiful Prince Paris; then, oh Prince Paris” — 
and his voice changed to an alluring song — then, oh 
Prince Paris, I shall be fair like thee.” 

At the same moment the good Eolf appeared on the 
ramparts above, and with a consecrated taper in his lan- 
tern, he cast its light down upon the moat, seeking for the 
missing young knight. For heaveiPs sake. Sir Sintram,” 
he called out, what has the specter of him whom you 
slew on Niflung^s Heath, and whom I never could bury, to 
do with you?” 

Seest thou it well ? Hearst thou it well ?” whispered 
the little master, drawing back into the shadow of the 
subterranean passage. The wise man up there knows 
me right well. Thy heroic deed was nought. Enjoy the 
pleasures of life while thou mayst!” 

But Sintram sprang back with a mighty effort into the 
circle of light formed by the taper above, and cried in a 


294 


81NTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


threatening voice: Depart from me, unquiet spirit! 1 
know I bear a name within me, in which thou canst have 
no part!’^ 

Angry and alarmed, the little master ran into the 
passage, and closed the iron door, with a yell, behind him. 
It seemed as if he could be heard within groaning and 
roaring. 

Sintram, however, climbed up the wall, and, signing to 
his old foster-father to be silent, he only said: ^‘One 
of my best joys, yes, my very best joy has been taken 
from me, but, nevertheless, by God’s help, I am not lost.” 

In the first gleams of the morrow’s dawn he and Eolf 
walled up the door leading to the dangerous passage with 
huge blocks of stone. 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

The long northern winter was at last over; the woods 
rustled gladly with their fresh green leaves, kindly patches 
of verdure peeped forth from the rocks, the valleys grew 
green, the brooks gushed away, only on the highest 
mountain - summits the snow still lingered, and Folko’s 
bark danced, ready for sail, on the sunny waves of 
the sea. 

The baron now wholly recovered, and strong and fresh 
as though his knightly strength had never been impeded 
by illness, was standing one morning on the shore with 
his beautiful wife, and glad at their approaching return 
home, the noble pair gazed with delight at their people 
who were busily engaged in packing and lading the vessel. 

Presently one of the band of workers said, in the midst 
of a confused sound of voices, But what appears to me 
the most fearful and marvelous thing in these northern 
lands is that stone fortress on the Moon Eocks; I have 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


295 


not, indeed, been there, but if I chance on our hunting 
expeditions to see the battlements rising above the tops of 
the fir-trees, there comes at once a tightness across my 
breast, as though something unearthly dwelt there. And 
a few weeks ago, when the snow w'as lying thickly over the 
valleys, I came unexpectedly quite close upon the strange 
fortress. The young knight Sintram was walking alone 
upon the ramparts, in the growing twilight, looking like 
some departed spirit, and he drew from the lute he carried 
such soft, soft plaintive tones, and sighed so heartily and 
sorrowfully 

The speaker's voice was drowned by the noise of the 
crowd, and, moreover, he was approaching the vessel with 
his well-strapped bales, so that Folko and Gabrielle could 
not hear the conclusion of his speech. 

But the fair lady looked at her knight, with tearful eyes, 
and sighed: Is it not behind those mountain peaks that 
the solitary Moon Rocks lie? That poor Sintram makes 
my heart acheP^ 

I understand thee, my pure and blessed wife, and the 
pious sympathy that stirs thy tender breast, replied Folko, 
and, immediately ordering his fieetest steed to be brought, 
he committed his noble lady to the care of one of his 
retainers, and, vaulting into his saddle, galloped away 
through the valley toward the stone fortress, followed by 
the grateful smiles of Gabrielle. 

Sintram was sitting on a resting-place, in front of the 
draw-bridge, touching the strings of his lute, letting now 
and then a tear fall upon the golden instrument, just as 
Montfaucon^s squire had described him. Something like a 
cloudy shadow passed over him, and he looked up thinking 
it was a flight of cranes through the air. But the heaven 
was spotless and blue, and while the young knight was 
still considering what it might be, a long and beautiful 
spear fell from the battlements and lay at his feet. 


296 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Take it up, and use it well! Thy foe is near! The 
ruin of thy dearest happiness is near!^^ whispered a voice 
audibly in his ear; and it seemed to him as if he saw the 
shadow of the little master gliding close beside him into a 
cleft in the rocky moat. 

But at the same moment also, a tall, gigantic, haggard 
figure passed through the valley, resembling in some 
measure the deceased pilgrim, only far, far taller, and 
raising his long withered arm with a threatening air he 
disappeared in an ancient tomb. 

At the same instant, Knight Folko of Montfaucon came 
galloping up toward the Moon Eocks, with the swiftness of 
the wind; and he must also indeed have seen something of 
the strange apparitions, for as he halted close behind Sin- 
tram, he looked pale, and asked in a low and earnest tone: 

Who were those two, with whom you have just now 
been holding converse?’^ 

The good God knows, replied Sintram. I know 
them not.^^ 

If the good God does but know,^^ exclaimed Mont- 
faucon. But I fear He knows very little more of you 
and your deeds.” 

^‘You speak terribly severe words,” said Sintram. 
^‘Yet since that unhappy evening — alas! and how long 
before it! — I must endure all that comes from you. Dear 
sir, you may believe me, I know not those fearful com- 
panions, I summon them not, and I know not what ter- 
rible curse binds them to my footsteps. The good God 
meanwhile, I trust, is mindful of me, just as a faithful 
shepherd forgets not the worst and wildest of his lambs, 
who has strayed from him, and now calls to him anxiously 
in the gloomy wilderness.” 

The anger of the noble baron now wholly gave way. 
Bright tears stood in his eye as he said: surely, God 

has not forgotten thee, only do not thou forget the good 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


297 


God. I came not, moreover, to rebuke thee. I came to 
bless thee, in Gabrielle’s name and in my own. May the 
Lord protect thee, may the Lord restrain thee, may the 
Lord lift thee up. And, Sintram, I shall bear thee in 
mind on the distant shores of Normandy, and shall learn 
how thou wrestlest with the curse that burdens thy un- 
happy life, and when thou shalt have some day shaken it 
off, and shalt stand as a noble conqueror over sin and 
death, then thou shalt receive from me a token of love and 
reward, more glorious than either thou or I can know at 
this moment/^ 

The words flowed from the lips of the baron with pro- 
phetic force; he himself was only half conscious of what 
he was saying; then with a kindly greeting he turned his 
noble steed and galloped again down the valley toward the 
shore. 

‘‘Fool, fool, thrice a fool whispered the angry voice 
of the little master in Sintram’s ear, but the old Rolf was 
singing his morning hymn clearly and distinctly within the 
castle, and the last verse was this: 

‘ ‘ That man is blest, 

Who’s held in jest 
By scoffers of Heaven’s love; 

God prints his sign, 

On page divine, 

And enrolls his name above.” 

A holy joy penetrated into Sintram^s heart, and he 
looked around him still more gladly than in the hour when 
Gabrielle had given him sword and scarf and Folko had 
dubbed him knight. 


298 


aiNTUAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

With a favorable spring breeze the baron and his fair 
wife set sail across the broad sea, and the coasts of Nor- 
mandy were already rising on the watery horizon, while 
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes still sat gloomy and silent within 
his castle. He had not bid them farewell. The feeling of 
his soul toward Montfaucon was rather angry fear than 
loving reverence, especially since the affair with the boards 
image, and the thought preyed bitterly on his proud heart, 
that the great baron, the flower and glory of the whole 
race, had come in joy to visit him, and was now departing 
with dissatisfaction and stern reproachful displeasure. 
Constantly present, to him, filling his breast with pangs, 
was the idea of how all had come to pass, and how all 
might have been otherwise; and he was always fancying he 
could hear the songs in which future generations would 
sing of this voyage of the great Folko, and of the worth- 
lessness of the savage Biorn. 

At length, full of fierce anger, he broke asunder the 
bonds of his troubled spirit, burst forth from the castle 
with all his retainers, and began one of the most fearful 
and unrighteous feuds he had ever before fought. Sin- 
tram heard the sound of his father's war-horn, and com- 
mitting the stone fortress to the care of the old Rolf, he 
sprang forth fully armed for the combat. 

But the flames of the cottages and farms in the mount- 
ains rose up before him, and with fearful characters of fire 
clearly portrayed to him the kind of war which his father 
was waging. Still he proceeded onward toward the armed 
hosts, but only for the sake of offering his mediation, as- 
serting that he would not lay hand on his noble sword in 
such a horrible strife, even though the fury of the enemy 
might lay low the stone fortress and his father’s castle be- 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


299 


sides. Biorn hurled the spear, which he held in his hand, 
in mad fury against his son. The murderous weapon 
whizzed past him, while Sintram remained with his visor 
raised, not moving a limb in his defense, and said: 
‘‘ Father, do what you will. Biu I will not join in your 
godless war.^^ 

Biorn of the Fiery Eyes smiled scornfully. It seems 
I am always to have a spy over me here; my son succeeds 
the dainty French knight^ Nevertheless he repented, 
accepted Sintram’s mediation, made amends for the in- 
juries done, and withdrew gloomily back to his ancestral 
(fastle, while Sintram returned to the Moon Rocks. 

Similar occurrences were from that time not unfre- 
quent. It went so far that Sintram was regarded as the 
protector of all those who were the victims of his father’s 
bursts of fury, but nevertheless the young knight was 
sometimes carried away by his own wildness to join his 
fierce father in his furious deeds. Then Biorn would laugh 
with horrible delight, and would say: ‘‘See there, my son, 
how our torches blaze up from the farms and how the 
blood gushes forth from the wounds our swords have 
made! I plainly see, however much thou mayst assume 
the contrary, that thou art and ever wilt be, my true and 
beloved heir!” 

After such wild errors, Sintram could find no other con- 
solation than that of hastening to the chaplain at Dront- 
heim, and confessing to him his misery and his sin. The 
t'haplain then after due penance and contrition would 
abcolve him from his sin, and would raise up the broken- 
hearted youth; still he would often say: 

“ Oh, how near, how very near wert thou to have over- 
come the last trial, and to have looked victoriously on 
Verena’s countenance, having atoned for all! Now thou 
hast again thrown thyself back for years. Consider, my 
son, human life is fleeting, and if thou art ever falling back 


300 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


anew, how wilt thou gain the summit on this side of the 
grave 

Years came and went and Biorn’s hair grew snowy 
white, and the youthful Sintram was becoming a middle- 
aged man; the aged Rolf could now scarcely leave the stone 
fortress, and sometimes he would say: That I still live is 
almost a burden to me, but yet to a certain extent there 
is comfort in it, when I think that the good God has in 
store for me here below a great, great happiness. And 
that must concern you, dear Sir Knight Sintram, for what 
else in the world could rejoice rne?’^ 

But everything remained as it was, and Sintram’s fear- 
ful dreams toward Christmas were every year rather more 
terrible than the reverse. 

The holy season was now again drawing nigh, and 
the mind of the afflicted knight was still more troubled 
tlian ever. At times, when he had been reckoning the 
nights that intervened, a cold perspiration would stand on 
his brow, and he would say: ^^Take heed, my dear old 
foster-father, this time something fearfully decisive lies 
before me.” 

One evening he felt an overwhelming anxiety about 
his father. It seemed to him as if the Evil One were on 
his way to his father’s castle, and it was in vain that 
Rolf reminded him that the snow lay many feet deep in 
the valleys; it was in vain that he suggested even that the 
knight might be overtaken by his fearful dreams in the 
mountains during the solitary night. It could not be 
worse to me than remaining here,” replied Sintram; and 
he ordered his horse from the stable, and galloped forth 
in the increasing darkness. 

The noble steed slipped, and stumbled, and fell, in 
the trackless paths, but the knight always pulled him up 
again, and urged him only more hastily and eagerly 
toward the longed-for yet dreaded end. Nevertheless he 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 301 

would scarcely have reached it had not the faithtul hound 
Skovmaerk kept with him. The animal found out the 
snow-covered track for his beloved master, alluring him 
toward it by joyous barkings, and warning him by howls 
against the precipices and the treacherous ice under the 
snow. Thus at length toward midnight they reached 
the old castle. The windows of the hall shone brightly 
toward them, as though a great feast were being kept there; 
and a sound of singing met their ears. Sintram hastily 
gave his steed to some retainers in the court-yard, and ran 
up the steps, leaving Skovmaerk behind with the well- 
known horse. Within the castle, the knight was met by a 
faithful squire, who said: Thank God, my dear master, 
that you are come. Surely once more, nothing good is 
going on above. But take heed to yourself, and do not 
sutfer yourself to be deluded. Your father has a guest 
with him, and it seems to me a hateful one."’’ 

Sintram shuddered as he threw open the doors. 

With his back toward him, there sat a little man in a 
miner’s dress. The suits of armor had again for some time 
been ranged round the stone table, so that only two places 
were left empty; the seat opposite the door was occupied 
by Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, and the glaring light of the 
torches fell upon his face with such a crimson glow that 
he looked perfectly in harmony with that fearful surname. 

Father, whom have you with you?” exclaimed Sintram, 
and his suspicions rose to certainty as the miner turned 
round and the little master’s hideous visage grinned from 
under the dark hood. 

‘‘'Yes, just see, my son!” said the wild Biorn; “thou 
hast not been with me for a long time, and this evening 
this jolly comrade has paid me a visit, and thy place has 
been taken. But put aside one of these suits of armor, 
and draw a seat for thyself in its place, and drink with 
us, and be merry with us.” 


302 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


Yes, do so, Sir Knight SintrarnP said the little 
master, with a laugh. What can come of it further than 
that the subverted armor will rattle a little, or at the most 
that the wandering spirit to whom the suit belonged may 
look over thy shoulder. But he won’t drink up our wine; 
spirits leave that alone. So now fall to!” 

Biorn joined in the horrible laugh of the stranger with 
vehemence, and while Sintram was mustering up all his 
strength that he might not lose his senses by these 
wild words, and was fixing his gaze calmly and steadily 
on the little master’s face, the old man exclaimed: ‘MVhy 
dost thou look at him so? Does it seem to thee perhaps as 
though thou wert looking at thyself in a mirror? Now 
that you are together, 1 do not see it so much, but before 
it seemed to me as though you were so like as to be mis- 
taken for each other!” 

^^God forbid!” said Sintram, stepping nearer to the fear- 
ful apparition, and exclaiming: I command thee, hateful 
stranger, to depart from this castle, in right of my power 
as heir, as a consecrated knight, and as a spirit.” 

Biorn seemed as if he were on the point of opposing this 
with all his fury. The little master murmured to himself: 
^‘Thou art by no means master in this house, good knight; 
thou hast never kindled a fire on this hearth.” Then Sin- 
tram drew the sword which Gabrielle had given him, and 
holding the hilt before the eyes of the evil guest, he said, 
calmly, but in a powerful voice: Die or fly!” 

And the horrible stranger fled with such lightning speed 
that no one knew whether he sprang through the window 
or the door. But as he passed he threw down some of the 
armor, the tapers went out, and in the blue-yellow light 
which marvelously illuminated the hall it seemed 
as though the former words of the little master were ful- 
filled, and that the spirits of those to whom the steel suits 


sintham and his companions. 303 

of armor had once belonged were leaning filled with awe 
over the table. 

Both father and son felt a sense of terror, but each 
adopted a different way of safety. The one heard the 
hideous guest returning, and felt within himself that his 
will was so firm that the little master’s step already 
sounded on the stone staircase, and his swarthy hand 
shook the fastenings of the door. 

Sintram, on the other hand, kept saying to himself: 

We are lost if he returns! We are lost to all eternity 
if he returns,” and falling on his knees he prayed from 
the depth of his troubled heart, to Father, Son and Holy 
Ghost. 

Then the Evil One again left the door; and again Biorn 
called him back; and again Sintram’s prayers drove him 
away; and thus the fearful strife of will went on through 
the long night, and howling whirlwinds raged around the 
castle till all the household thought the end of the world 
had come. 

The dawn of day at length gleamed through the win- 
dows of the hall, the fury of the storm was hushed, Biorn 
sank back on his seat in powerless slumber, peace and hope 
came to the inmates of the castle, and Sintram, pale and 
exhausted, went out before the castle gate to breathe the 
dewy air of the mild winter’s morning. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

The faithful Skovmaerk had caressingly followed his 
master, and now while Sintram sat half-asleep on a stone 
seat in the wall, lay watchful and attentive at his feet. 
Suddenly he pricked up his ears, his bright eyes looked 
round with delight, and he bounded joyfully down the 
mountain. Immediately afterward the chaplain of Dront- 


304 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


heim appeared among the rocks, the good animal clung to 
him, as if to greet him, and then again ran back to his 
master, as though to announce the wished-for visitor. 

Sintram opened his eyes, like a child by whose bedside 
Christmas gifts had been placed. For the chaplain 
smiled upon him as he had never smiled before. In that 
smile there was a token of victory and blessing, or at least 
of the joyful approach of both. 

^^Thou hast done much yesterday, very much!’' said the 
holy father, and his hands were folded, and his eyes were 
full of tears. praise God for thee, my noble knight. 
Verena knows everything, and she too praises God for 
thee. Yes, I venture to hope that the time is now not 
far distant when you can appear before her, but Sintram, 
Knight Sintram, there is need of haste. For the old man 
above needs speedy help, and a heavy trial — I hope the 
last — but a very heavy trial thou hast yet to endure on 
his account. Arm thyself, my knight; arm thyself also 
with bodily weapons. It is true, this time only spiritual 
armor is needed, but it becomes the knight as well as the 
monk, ever in decisive moments, to wear the solemn garb 
of his station. If it please thee, we will set out at once 
together for Drontlieim. Thou must return thence this 
very night. This belongs also to the hidden decree which 
is dimly revealed to V^erena. Here, moreover, there is so 
much that is wild and distracting, and calm preparation 
is to-day very necessary for thee.” 

With joyful humility Sintram bowed his assent, and 
called for his horse, and for a suit of armor. Only,” he 
added, let none of the armor be brought which was last 
night overthrown in the hall?” His orders were imme- 
diately obeyed. 

The arms which were fetched were adorned with fine 
engraved work; the helmet alone was simple, being formed 
almost more like that of a squire than of a knight, and 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


305 


the lance belonging to the suit was of a gigantic size. The 
chaplain gazed at them all with deep thought and melan- 
choly emotion. At length, when Sintram with the help of 
his squires was almost ready, the holy father spoke: 

“Wonderful providence of God! See, dear sir, this 
armor and this spear formerly belonged to Sir Weigand 
the Slender, and many a mighty deed he accomplished 
with them. When he was tended by your mother in the 
castle, and when your father also was still kindly toward 
him, he begged as a favor that his armor and his lance 
might be allowed to hang in Biorn^s armory — he himself, 
as you well know, intended to build a cloister, to retire 
there as a monk — and he put his former squire’s helmet 
with the armor instead of another, because that was the 
one he was wearing when for the first time he had looked 
upon the angelic face of the fair Verena. How strangely 
has it now come to pass, that just these arms, so long 
unused, should have been brought to you for the decisive 
hour! To me, so far as my short-sighted human eye can 
reach, it seems a truly solemn token, but one full of high 
and glorious promise.” 

Sintram meanwhile stood fully armed, looking solemn 
and stately, and from his stature and agility he might have 
been still almost taken for a youth, but for the careworn 
countenance beneath his helmet. 

“ Who has placed boughs on the head of my charger,” 
inquired Sintram, in an angry tone, “ I am no conqueror 
and no wedding-guest; and moreover, what boughs are 
there but these red and yellow crackling oak leaves, sad 
and dead as the season itself !” 

“Sir, I know not myself,” replied an esquire, “but it 
seemed to me as if it must be so.” 

“ Let it be,” said the chaplain. “I feel as if this sig- 
nificant token also came from the right source.” 

The knight then vaulted into his saddle; the holy 


30G 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


fatlier walked by liis side, and both proceeded slowly and 
silently to Drontheirn. The faithful hound followed his 
master. 

When the lofty castle of Drontheirn came in view, a 
soft smile spread itself over Sintram^s countenance like 
sunshine over a wintry valley. God is doing great things 
in me,’^ said he; once fled from here a fearfully wild 
boy; I now return as a repentant man. I trust it may yet 
be well with my poor troubled life.^’ 

The chaplain bowed his head in kindly assent, and soon 
afterward the travelers passed through the echoing vaulted 
gateway into the castle-yard. At a sign from the holy 
father, some squires hastened respectfully to them and 
took the horse under their charge; then the chaplain and 
Sintram went through many winding stairs and passages 
to the remote little chamber which the priest had chosen 
for himself; far from the tumult of men and near to the 
clouds and stars. There they both passed a quiet day in 
fervent prayer, and in earnest reading of the holy 
scriptures. 

When evening began to draw in, the chaplain arose and 
said: Courage, my knight, novv saddle thy horse, and 

mount and ride back to thy father’s castle. Thou hast a 
laborious path before thee, and I may not accompany thee. 
But I can and I will call on the Lord for thee, through- 
out this long and fearful night. Oh! thou most precious 
instrument of the most High, be not lost after all!” 

Shuddering with fearful forebodings, but nevertheless 
with a sense of strength and gladness, Sintram obeyed the 
holy man. The sun had just set as the knight approached 
a long valley strangely shut in by rocks, through which the 
way led to his father’s castle. 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


30 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

At the entrance to the rocky defile the knight looked 
round once more, thankfully and prayerfully, to the castle 
of Drontheim. It stood there so vast and calm and peace- 
ful, the windows of the chaplain’s upper chamber were 
still lighted up with the last gleams of the sun, which had 
already set ; before Sintram there lay the gloomy valley, 
gloomy as the grave. 

Presently some one approached him riding on a small 
horse, and Skovmaerk, who had bounded instinctively 
toward the stranger, ran back howling and whining, with 
his tail between his legs and his ears thrown back, and 
nestled fearfully under his master’s steed. 

But even this noble animal seemed to forget his wonted 
courage. He started back, and when the knight tried to 
urge him toward the stranger, he reared and plunged and 
began to back. It was only with difficulty that Sintram’s 
power and horsemanship at length gained the mastery; but 
his steed was white with foam when he approached the 
unknown traveler. 

You have a shy beast with you,” said the latter, in a 
low, smothered voice. 

Sintram could not rightly distinguish in the ever-increas- 
ing darkness what sort of a being he really had before him; 
he could only see a very pale face — he thought at first it 
was covered with freshly fallen snow — gazing at him from 
amid his long, shrouding garments. It seemed as if the 
stranger were carrying a small box wrapped up; his little 
horse as if utterly weary hung its head down, causing a 
bell suspended from his neck to give forth a strange 
sound. 

After some minutes silence Sintram replied: Noble 
steeds indeed avoid those of less noble race, because they 


308 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 

are ashamed of them, and the bravest dogs feel a secret 
horror at unwonted apparitions. I have no shy beasts 
with me.” 

^^Good, sir knight, then ride with me into the valley.” 

I am going into the valley, but I need no companion.” 

Then perhaps I need one. Do you not see that I 
am unarmed? and at this season, at this hour, there are 
horribly unearthly creatures here.” 

Just then, as though to confirm the awful words of the 
stranger, a thing swung itself down from the nearest tree 
covered with hoar frost: it was impossible to distinguish 
whether it was a snake or a salamander; it curled and 
twisted itself, and seemed about to slide down upon the 
knight or his companion. Sin tram thrust at it with his 
spear and pierced it. But with the most frightful contor- 
tions it remained fixed on the spear-head, and in vain the 
knight endeavored to rub it off against the rocks or 
branches. Then he rested his spear upon his right shoul- 
der with the point behind, so that he might no longer have 
the ugly creature full in view, and turning with good cour- 
age to the stranger, he said: 

It seems indeed as if I could help you, and I am not 
exactly forbidden the company of an unknown stranger; 
so let us proceed forward into the valley.” 

‘‘Help!” was the sad answer returned. “Not help; I 
can perhaps help thee. But God have mercy on thee if 
the time should come that I could no longer help thee. 
Then thou wouldst be lost, and I should be very terrible 
to thee. Let us go into the valley, and I have thy knightly 
word for it. Come!” 

They rode forward. Sintram’s horse still shy, the faith- 
ful hound still whining, but both obeying their master’s 
will; the knight calm and steadfast. 

The snow had fallen from the smooth rocks, and in the 
light of the rising moon many distorted shapes were to be 


SINTRAM AND HUS COMPANIONS. 


309 


seen on the stony walls — some looking like snakes, some 
like human faces, but they were only caused by strange 
veins in the rocks and by the half-bare roots of the trees 
which had planted themselves with capricious firmness. 
Once more, as if in farewell, the castle of Drontheim ap- 
peared high above through a cleft in the rocks. 

The knight surveyed his companion, and it almost 
seemed to him as if Weigand the Slender were riding 
beside him. For heaven’s sake,” cried he, ""art thou 
not the shade of that departed knight who suffered and 
died for Verena?” 

"" I have not suffered, I have not died; it is you poor 
mortals who suffer and die!” murmured the stranger. "" I 
am not Weigand — I am that other who looked so like him 
and whom thou hast also met before now in the wood.” 

Sintram strove to free himself from the horror which 
came over him at these words. He looked at his horse; it 
appeared to him utterly altered. The dry many-colored 
oak-leaves on its head rose like the flames around a sacri- 
fice in the fleeting moonlight. He looked down at his 
faithful Skovmaerk; fear had also strangely transformed 
him. Dead men’s bones were lying on the ground in the 
middle of the road, and hideous lizards were gliding about, 
and in spite of the wintry season poisonous fungi were 
growing all around. 

"" Is this really my own horse on which I am riding?” 
said the knight softly to himself. ""And is that trembling 
beast running by my side really my own dog?” 

Just then some one called behind him in a yelling voice: 
"" Stop ! stop ! Take me too with you I” On looking 
round Sintram saw a horrible little figure with horns, and 
a face partly like that of a boar, and partly like a bear, 
walking along on its horse-like hind legs, and a wonderful 
hideous weapon in its hand, formed like a hook or a sickle. 
It was the being who had been wont to terrify him in his 


310 


8INTRAM AND H18 a0MPAN10N8. 


dreams, and alas! it was also the fatal little master him- 
self, who, with a wild laugh, stretched out a long claw 
toward the knight. 

Sintram, half - bewildered, murmured: I must have 
fallen asleep! And now my dreams are coming over me!” 

^‘Thou art awake,” replied the rider of the little horse; 
^nhou knowest me also in thy dreams — for behold, I am 
Death!” 

And his garments fell from him, and a moldering, flesh- 
less skeleton appeared, the half-decayed head crowned 
with a diadem of serpents; that which he had kept hidden 
under his mantle was an hour-glass almost run out. Death 
held out this toward the knight in his bony hand. The 
bell suspended to the horse’s neck sounded solemnly. It 
was a passing bell. 

^^Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!” prayed 
Sintram; and full of earnest devotion he followed Death, 
who signed to him to ride on. 

He has thee not yet. He has thee not yet!” screamed 
the horrible fiend behind them. Give thyself rather up 
to me. In one moment — for my power is as swift as thy 
thoughts — in one moment thou shalt be in Normandy. 
Helen yet blooms as fairly as wlien she departed hence, 
and she shall be thine this very night.” 

And again he began his wicked praises of Gabrielle’s 
beauty, and Sintram’s heart beat with glowing ardor in 
his weak breast. 

Death said nothing more, but he raised the hour-glass 
higher and higher in his right hand; and as the sand ran 
out more quickly a soft light from the glass gleamed over 
Sintram’s countenance, and it seemed to him as though 
eternity in its calm glory were opening before him, and 
that the bewildering world were dragging him backward 
with its terrible power. 

command thee, thou wild form that followest me,” 


SINTBAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


311 


cried he; I command thee in the name of my Lord Jesus 
Christ that thou ceasest from thy seducing words, and that 
thou callest thyself by the name by which thou art desig- 
nated in the Holy Scriptures!'^ 

A name more fearful than a thunder-clap burst despair- 
ingly from the lips of the tempter, and he disappeared. 

‘‘ He will never come again," said Death, in a kindly 
tone. 

‘‘Am I then indeed become wholly thine, my stern 
companion?" 

“Hot yet, my Sintram. I shall not come to thee for 
many, many years. But thou must not forget me the 
while." 

“I will keep thee steadily in mind, thou fearful yet 
wholesome monitor, thou awful yet loving guide." 

“ Oh! I can also appear very gentle." 

And indeed he at once showed himself so. His form 
became less gloomy in the increasing gleam of light that 
shone from the hour-glass; the features that had been so 
stern and awful wore a gentle smile, the crown of serpents 
became a bright palm-wreath, his horse melted into a 
white, misty cloud, and the bell gave forth sweet cradle 
lullabies. Sintram thought he could hear these words in 
the sound: 

The world and Satan are defeated, 

Before thee gleams eternal light. 

Warrior, whom success has greeted. 

Help the old man from his sorrow. 

For, ere many a coming morrow, 

I shall have quenched his fiery sight.” 

The knight knew well that his father was meant, and he 
hastened on his noble steed. The horse now obeyed him 
readily and gladly, and the faithful hound ran again in 
confidence hy his side; Death had disappeared, only in 
front there floated something like a rosy morning cloud, 


312 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


which remained visible even after the sun had risen 
and was shining brightly and warmly in the clear winter 
sky. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

He is dead! he has died from the terror of that fearful 
night!” said some of Biorn’s retainers about this time; for 
since the morning of the previous day the old man had 
never recovered his senses, and they had prepared for him 
in the great hall a couch of wolf and bear-skins, in the 
midst of the armor that had been partly thrown down. 
One of the squires said with a low sigh: Oh God! have 
mercy on this poor wild soul!” 

Just then the watchman on the tower blew his horn, 
and a trooper entered the chamber with an air of surprise. 

There is a knight approaching,” said he, a wonderful 
knight. I could have taken him for my Lord Sintram, 
but a bright, bright morning cloud is always floating close 
before him, and so illuminates him with its glory that one 
could imagine that red flowers were being showered down 
upon him. His horse, too, has a wreath of crimson 
boughs about its head, such as has never been the wont of 
our dead master’s son.” 

‘^Just such a one,” replied another, ^‘did I weave for 
him yesterday. It did not please him at first, but after- 
ward he suffered it to remain.” 

^^And why didst thou do it?” 

It seemed as if some one were forever singing in my 

ear: 

“ ‘ Victory! Victory! 

The noblest victory! 

The knight rides forth to victory!’ 

^^And then I saw a branch of our oldest oak-tree 
stretched out toward me, and in spite of the snow it had 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 313 

retained all its gold and crimson leaves. So I did accord- 
ing to that which I had heard sung, and I plucked some 
of the leaves and wove a wreath of victory for the noble 
war-horse. At the same time, too, Skovmaerk — you know 
the good beast had always a marvelous fear of the Knight 
Biorn, and liad for that reason gone to the stable with the 
horse — Skovmaerk sprang upon me, caressingly and 
pleased, as though he would thank me for my work, and 
such noble animals well understand good prognostics.^^ 

The sounds of Sintram’s spurs were heard approaching 
on the stone steps, followed by the joyous bark of 
Skovmaerk. 

At the same moment the supposed corpse of the old 
Biorn sat up, and, looking round with rolling, staring 
eyes, he asked his terrified retainers in a hollow voice: 

‘^Who comes there, ye people? Who comes there? 
I know it is my son. But who comes with him ? the 
answer bears the sword of decision with it. For see, my 
good people, Gotthard and Rudlieb have prayed fervently 
for me; but if the little master comes I am lost in spite of 
theml^^ 

‘^Thou art not lost, dear father!’^ sounded Sintram’s 
kindly voice through the gently-opened door, and the 
bright morning cloud floated in with him. 

Biorn folded his hands, and looking gratefully to 
heaven, he said with a smile: Yes, yes, thank God, it is 
the right companion! It is bright kindly death!” 

Then he signed to bis son to approach, saying: Come 
here, my deliverer! Come, thou blessed of the Lord, that 
I may tell thee all that has passed with me.” 

As Sintram now sat close by his father’s couch, all who 
were in the room perceived a remarkable and striking 
change. The old Biorn, whose whole countenance as well 
as his eyes was wont to be so fiery, was now quite pale, 
almost like white marble; while on the other hand the 


3 1 i SINTRAM AND HIS COMPAmOAfS. 

formerly pale Sintram glowed with the rosy brightness of 
youth. This was caused by the morning cloud which still 
shone upon him, the presence of which in the room was 
indeed rather felt than seen, but still a gentle shudder 
passed through every heart. 

See, my son,’^ began the old man in a soft and mild 
tone. I have lain for a long time in a death-like slumber, 
and I have not been conscious of anything going on 
around me; but within, ah! within, I have been conscious 
of too much! I thought my soul would have perished 
with eternal anguish, and yet again 1 felt with still greater 
horror that my soul was as eternal as the anguish I 
endured. Dear child, thy cheeks that glowed so brightly 
are beginning to grow pale at my words. I must refrain. 
But let me tell you something more beautiful. Far, far 
away, I saw a bright, lofty church, and in it Gotthard and 
Rudlieb Lenz were kneeling and praying for me. Gott- 
hard had now grown very very old, and he almost looked 
like our snow-clad mountains, but in those bright hours 
Avhen the evening sun is shining on them. And Rudlieb 
was also an elderly man, but still very vigorous and strong ; 
and with all their vigor and strength they were both pray- 
ing for me, and supplicated help from God for me their 
enemy. Then I heard a voice, like that of an angel saying: 
^ His son is doing his utmost for him. He must wrestle 
in this night with Death and with the Fallen One. His 
victory will be victoiy, and his defeat will be defeat for the 
old man and for himself ! ’ Upon this I awoke, and I knew 
now that all depended upon the one whom thou shouldst 
bring with thee. Thou has conquered. Next to God the 
praise be to thee!’’ 

Gotthard and Rudlieb Lenz have also helped much,” 
replied Sintram ; and my dear father, the fervent prayers 
also of the chaplain at Drontheim. I felt when wrestling 
with temptation and terror, how the heavenly breath of 
holy men was floating round me and helping me.” 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 


315 


I readily believe thee, my noble son, and all that thou 
sayest,” replied the old man, and at the same moment the 
chaplain entered ; and Biorn, with a smile of peace and joy, 
held out his hand toward him. 

It was a beautiful circle. of unity and blessedness. See,^^ 
said the old Biorn, how even the good Skovmaerk springs 
kindly up to me now, and tries to caress me ! It is not 
long since he always howled with fear when he saw me."’ 

My dear lord,’" replied the chaplain, there is a spirit 
dwelling in good beasts, though indeed in a dreamy and 
unconscious state."" 

By degrees it grew stiller and stiller in the hall. The 
last hour of the old knight was approaching, but he con- 
tinued calm and happy. The chaplain and Sintram prayed 
by the side of his couch. The retainers knelt devoutly 
around. At length the dying man said: ‘^Is that the 
matin bell in Verena’s cloister?"" Sintram nodded an as- 
sent, but his hot tears fell on his father"s pallid face. Then 
a gleam lightened up the old man"s eyes, the morning cloud 
stood close over him, and the gleam and the morning cloud 
and the life departed from the corpse. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A FEW days afterward Sintram was standing in the 
parlor of the convent, waiting with beating heart for his 
mother to appear. The last time he had seen her, he had 
been awakened — a slumbering child — to receive her warm 
farewell-kiss, and then had fallen asleep again, half con- 
jecturing in his dreams what his mother had wanted with 
him, and seeking her in vain the following morning in the 
castle and garden. The chaplain was now at his side, full 
of joy at the chastened rapture of the gentle knight, on 
whose cheeks a faint reflection of that solemn morning 
cloud yet lingered. 


316 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


The inner doors opened. In her white veil, tall and 
stately, the Lady Verena entered with a heavenly smile, 
and signed to her son to approach the grating. There 
could be no thought here of any passionate outburst of 
grief or of delight. The holy peace which dwelt in these 
halls would have found its way to a heart even less tried 
and purified than that which beat in Sintram^s breast. 
Silently weeping, the son knelt down before the mother, 
kissed her fiowing garments through the grating, and 
felt as though he were in paradise, where every desire and 
every disturbing care is hushed. 

‘‘Dear mother,^’ said he, “let me become a holy man, 
as thou art a holy woman. Then I will go to the monas- 
tery yonder, and perhaps I may one day be deemed worthy 
of being thy confessor, if illness or the weakness of age 
should confine the good chaplain to the castle of Dron- 
theim.” 

“That would be a sweet and quietly happy existence, 
my good child, replied the Lady Verena. “ But that is 
not thy vocation. A brave mighty knight thou must re- 
main, and the long life — for the most part always granted 
to us, the children of the North — thou must spend in suc- 
coring the weak, in restraining the lawless, and in 3^et an- 
other bright and honorable employment, which I up to 
this time rather honor than know.’^ 

“God^s will be done!’^ said the knight, rising full of 
devotion and firmness. 

“That is my good son,’’ replied the Lady Verena. 
“Ah, how many fair calm joys sprang up for us ! See, 
our long yearnings for reunion have been satisfied, and 
thou shalt never more be so wholly sundered from me ! 
Every week on this day thou must return to me, and tell 
me what glorious deeds thou hast achieved, and take back 
with thee my counsel and my blessing.” 

“Then I shall once more be like a good happy child!” 


8INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


31 ? 


exclaimed Sintram, joyfully; only that the good God has 
endowed rne besides with manly power in mind and body. 
Oh, what a blessed being is a son to whom it is granted to 
gladden his beloved mother with the fruits and spoils of his 
life!’’ 

Thus he quitted the cloister’s quiet shade, glad and rich 
in blessing, and entered upon his noble course. Not satis- 
fied with going about wherever there was right to uphold 
and wrong to avert, his now hospitable castle stood open as 
a place of protection and refreshment to every stranger; 
and the old Rolf, now almost grown young again at the 
sight of his knight’s excellence, was installed as seneschal. 
The bright and beneficent winter of Sintram’s life passed 
on, and only at times would he sigh in secret within him- 
self and say: ‘^Ah, Montfaucon! ah, Gabrielle! if only I 
could hope that you have indeed wholly forgiven me!” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

The spring had already come in its brightness to the 
northern lands, when one morning — after a successful and 
well-contested battle with the most formidable disturber 
of the peace of the district — Sintram was riding back to 
his ancestral castle. His troopers rode after him, singing 
as they went. As they approached nearer, the glad notes 
of a horn sounded from the castle. ‘‘ Some welcome vis- 
itor must have arrived,” said the knight, and he spurred 
his horse to a quicker pace over the dewy meadow. 

While they were still far off they saw the old Rolf busy 
in preparing a table for the morning meal under the trees 
in front of the gateway. From all the towers and battle- 
ments banners and flags were floating gladly in the fresh 
morning breeze, and the squires were running to and fro 
in festive attire. As soon as the good Rolf perceived his 


318 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


master, he clapped his hands joyously over his gray head, 
and hastened into the castle. The wide gates were soon 
thrown open, and Sintram as he entered was met by Rolf 
with tears of joy in his eyes, as he pointed to three noble 
forms that were following him. 

Two men of lofty stature — the one very aged, the other 
already gray-headed, and both unusually alike — were lead- 
ing between them a beautiful youth dressed in a page’s at- 
tire of azure velvet richly embroidered with gold. The 
two old men wore the black velvet dress of German burgh- 
ers, with massive gold chains and large shining medals 
round their neck and breast. 

Sintram had never before seen his noble guests, and yet 
they seemed to him like long and intimate acquaintances. 
The old man then reminded him of his dying father’s 
words about the snowy mountains illuminated with the 
evening sun, and then he remembered — he himself knew 
not how — that he had once heard Folko say that in the 
southern lands one of the highest peaks of that sort was 
called the mountain of St. Gotthard. And at the same 
time he knew also that the strong vigorous man on the 
other side of Gotthard must be Rudlieb. But the youth 
between the knights — ah! Sintram in his humility scarcely 
ventured to hope who he might be, however much his 
proud though delicate features recalled before his mind 
two highly-honored images! 

Then the aged Gotthard Lenz, the king of old men, 
advanced toward Sintram with a solemn air, and said: 

This is the noble boy, Engeltrarn of Montfaucon, the 
only son of the great baron of Montfaucon; and his father 
and mother send him to thee. Sir Sintram, well knowing thy 
glorious and pious knightly career, that thou mayest bring 
him up in all the honor and power of this northern land, 
and mayest make him a Christian knight like thyself.” 

Sintram sprang from his horse. Engeltrarn of Mont- 


SINTliAM AND HIS COMPAHIOHS, 


319 


fancon held the stirrup gracefully for him, courteously 
checking the retainers who pressed forward, with these 
words: “ I am the noblest born squire of this noble knight, 
and the service nearest his person belongs to me/^ 

Sintram knelt down on the turf in silent prayer, then 
raising the youthful image of Folko and Gabrielle in h’s 
arms toward the morning sun, he exclaimed: With 

God's help, my Engeltram, thou wilt be like that sun, and 
thy course will be like his!" 

Then Rolf cried out, weeping with joy: Lord, now 
lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace!" Gotthard and 
Rudlieb Lenz were pressed to Sintram's heart ; and the 
chaplain of Drontheim, who arrived just then from 
Verena's cloister to bring a joyful morning greeting from 
her to her brave son, spread his hands in benediction over 
them all. 


It is possible that some day the writer may be permitted 
to recount the glorious deeds achieved by Engeltram of 
Montfaucon under Sintram's guidance, and subsequently 
alone — deeds both in the service of God and for the honor 
of women. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Oftentimes the question arises whether a poet has taken 
the creations of his mind from previous works, or in what 
way they have suggested themselves to him. Such a ques- 
tion seems to me in no way devoid of interest ; and I 
think when the author is able himself to elucidate the 
matter, he is induced— and to a certain extent pledged — 
to impart the fact to the reader. Hence the following 
statement: 


320 


SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 


Some years ago there lay among my birthday presents a 
beautiful engraving from a painting by Albrecht Diirer; it 
represented a knight in full armor, of elderly appearance, 
riding on a noble steed, accompanied by his dog, through a 
fearful valley, where the clefts in the rock and the roots 
of trees seemed distorted into the most horrible forms, and 
poisonous fungi grew all around. 

Noxious reptiles were crawling about among them. By 
his side, on a lean horse, rode Death; and behind, a demon- 
form stretched forth his clawed arm toward him; horse 
and dog looked strange, as though infected by the horrors 
round them; the knight, however, rode calmly on his way, 
bearing on his lance's point an already impaled salamander. 
Far in the distance might be seen the noble friendly battle- 
ments of a castle, causing the seclusion of the valley to be 
more heavily oppressive. My friend, Edward Hitzig, the 
donor of the engraving, had added a note requesting me 
to interpret these enigmatical figures for him in a romance. 
The task was not then allowed me, nor for long after; but 
I carried the picture constantly in my mind, through 
peace and war, until it has now distinctly spun and 
fashioned itself out before me; but instead of a romance it 
has become a little tale, if the kind reader will accept it as 
such. 

3d December, 1814. Fouque. 


THE END. 


A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS 

For Young People 

BY POPULAR WRITERS, 

97-99-101 Reade Street, New Yorkr 


V Bonnie Prince Charlie : A Tale of Fontenoy and Cullodenc By 
1 , G. A. Henty. With 13 full-page Illustrations by GORDOlf 
'' Browne. 12rao, cloth, price $1.00. 

The adventures of the son of a Scotch officer in French service 
^The boy, brought up by a Glasgow bailie, is a. rested tor aiding a 
Jacobite agent, escapes, is wrecked on the French coast, reaches 
Paris, and serves with the French army at Dettingen. He kills 
his father’s foe in a duel, and escaping to the coast, shares the 
adventures of Prince Charlie, but finally settles happily in Scot- 
land. 

“ Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of ‘ Quentin Durward.’ The lad’s 
]oumey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, make up as good a nar 
rative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and 
variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself.”— Npecfafor. 

With Clive in India ; or, the Beginnings of an Empire. By 
G, A. Henty. With 13 full-page Illustrations by Gordon! 
Browne. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00, 

The period between the landing of Clive as a young writer in 
India and the close of his career was critical and eventful in the 
extreme. At its commencement the English were traders existing 
on sufferance of the native princes. At its close they were masters 
of Bengal and of the greater part of Southern India. The author 
has given a full and accurate account of the events of that stirring 
time, and battles and sieges follow each other in rapid succession, 
while he combines with his narrative a tale of daring and adven- 
ture, which gives a lifelike interest to the volume. 

He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital importance, 
and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply 
Interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume.” — 
'^^cotsman. 

/The Lion of the North : A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the 
^ Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illus- 
trations by John Schonberg. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00. r 
In this story Mr. Hen y gives the history of the first part of the? 
Thirty Years’ War. The issue had its importance, which has ex- 
tended to the present day, as it established religious freedom 
in Germany. The army oif the chivalrous king of Sweden was 
largely composed of Scotchmen, and among these was the hero of 
the story. 

“ The tale is a clever and instructive piece of history, and as boys ma,y W 
trusted to read it con:;cientiously, they can hardly fail to be profited.”— Tme* 


A. U BURT’S PUBLICATIONS. 


& 


The Dragon and the Raven ; or, The Days of King Alfred. By 

Go A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by C. J. Stani* 

LAND, R.L 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle 
between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents 
a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was 
reduced by the ravages of the sea- wolves. The hero, a young 
Saxon thane, takes part in all the battles fought by King Alfred. 
He is driven from his home, takes to the sea and resists the Danes 
on thnir own element, and being pursued by them up the Seine, 
is present at the long and desperate siege of Paris. 

“ Treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader.” — Mhenceum, 

The Young Carthaginian : A Story of the Times of Hannibal 

By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by C. J. Stanl 

LAND, R.L 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

Boys reading the history of the Punic Wars have seldom a keel 
appreciation of the merits of the contest. That it was at first a 
Struggle for empire, and afterward for existence on the part ot 
Carthage, that Hannibal was a great and skillful general, that he 
defeated the Romans at Trebia, Lake Trasimenus, and Cannae, 
and all but took Rome, represents pretty nearly the sum total of 
their knowledge. To let them know more about this momentous 
struggle for the empire of the world Mr. Henty has written this 
story, which not only gives in graphic style a brilliant descrip- 
tion of a most interesting period of history, but is a tale of ex- 
citing adventure sure to secure the interest of the reader. 

” Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays the 
Intei’est of the narrative. It bears us along as on a jstream whose current 
varies in direction, but never loses its force .” — Saturday Review. 

In Freedom’s Cause : A Story of Wallace and Bruce. ByG. A. 

Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

In this story the author relates the stirring tale of the Scottish 
War of Independence. The extraordinary valor and personal 
prowess of Wallace and Bruce rival the deeds of the mythical 
heroes of chivalry, and indeed at one time Wallace was ranked 
with these legendary personages. The researches of moderiv 
historians have shown, however, that he was a living, breathing 
I man — and a valiant champion. The hero of the tale fought undet 
both Wallace and Bruce, and while the strictest historical accuracy 
has been maintained with respect to public events, the work is 
full of “hairbreadth ’scapes ” and wild adventure. 

” It is written in the author’s best style. Full of the wildest and most re- 
markable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has 
begun it, will not willingly put on one side.”— T7ie Schoolmaster. 


A. L. BUHT’S PtTBLTCA.riONS. 


8 


With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the Americaii Civil War. By 

G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

The story of a young Virginian planter, who, after bravely 
proving his sympathy with the slaves of brutal masters, serves 
with no less courage and enthusiasm under Lee and Jackson 
through the most exciting events of the struggle. He has many 
hairbreadth escapes, is seve al times wounded and twice taken 
prisoner; but his courage and readiness and, in two cases, the 
devotion of a black servant and of a runaway slave whom he had 
assisted, bring him safely through all difficulties. 

“ One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet w^ritten. The 
picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic incidents are 
skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of the story.”— 
Standard. 

By England’s Aid ; or. The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585- 

1604). By G. A. Henty. With full- page Illustrations by 

Alfred Pearse, and Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

The story of two English lads who go to Holland as pages in 
the service of one of “ the fighting Veres.” After many adven- 
tures by sea and land, one of the lads finds himself on board a 
Spanish ship at the time of the defeat of the Armada, and escapes 
only to fall into the hands of the Corsairs. He is successful in 
getting back to Spain under the protection of a wealthy merchant, 
and regains his native country aher the capture of Cadiz. 

“ It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring inci- 
dent and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the scene are 
finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its attractiveness.”— .Bosfon 
Gazette. 

By Right of Conquest ; or. With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A. 

Henty. With full-page Illustrations by W. S. Stacey, and 

Two Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.50. 

The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under 
the magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightly ranked 
among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. With 
this as the groundwork of his story Mr. Henty has interwoven the 
adventures of an English youth, Roger Hawkshaw, the sole sur- 
vivor of the good ship Swan, w'hich had sailed from a Devon port 
to challenge the mercantile supremacy o" the Spaniards in the 
New World. He is beset by many perils among the natives, but 
is saved by his own judgment and strength, and by the devotion 
of an Aztec princes*. At last by a ruse he obtains the protection 
of the Spaniards, and after the fall of Mexico he succeeds in re- 
gaining his native shore, with a fortune and a charming Aztec 
bride. 

“ ‘ By Right of Conquest ’ is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful 
historical tale that Mr. Henty has yet published.”— ^cadewj/. 


4 


A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS. 


(a the Reign of Terror : The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. 

By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by J. SCHoN» 

BEKG. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

Harry Sandwith, a Westminster boy, becomes a resident at the 
chateau of a French marquis, and aft r various adventures accom. 
panies the family to Paris at the crisis of the Revolution. Im- 
prisonment and death reduce their number, and the hero finds 
himself beset by perils with the three young daughters of the 
bouse in his charge. After hairbreadth escapes they reach Nan- 
tes. There the ^irls are condemned to death in the coflBn-ships, ' 
but are saved by the unfailing courage of their boy protector. ' 

“ Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. 
Hentj^’s record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril 
they depict. . . The story is one of Mr. Henty ’s test.”— 

Review. 

With Wolfe in Canada ; or. The Winning of a Continent. By 

G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

In the present volume Mr. Henty gives an account of the strug- 
gle between Britain and France for supremacy in the North 
American continent. On the issue of this war depended not only 
the destinies of North America, but to a large extent those of the 
mother countries themselves. The fall of Quebec decided that 
the Anglo-Saxon race should predominate in the New World; 
that Britain, and not France, should take the lead among the 
nations of Europe; and that English and American commerce, the 
English language, and English literature, should spread right 
round the globe. 

” It is n<ft only a lesson in history as instructively as it is graphically told, 
but also a deeply interesting and often thrilling tale of adventure and peril by 
flood and fi&ld.."— Illustrated London News. 

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Inde- 
pendence. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by 
I Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

In this story the author has gone to the accounts of officers who 
fook part in the conflict, and lads will find that in no war in which 
American and British soldiers have been engaged did they behave 
with greater courage and good conduct. The historical portion of 
the book being accompanied with numerous thrilling adventures 
with the redskins on the shores of Lake Huron, a story of exciting 
interest is interwoven with the general narrative and carried 
through the book. 

“ Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers during 
the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son of an 
American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red- 
skins in that very Huron country Which has been endeared to us by the ex- 
ploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook.”— ITie Times. 


A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS. 


5 


The Lion of St. Mark : A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth 
Century. By G. A. Hentt. With full-page Illustrations by 
Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

A story of Venice at a period when her strength and splf'iidor 
were put to the severest tests. The hero displays a fine sense and 
manliness which carry him safely through an atmosphere of in- 
trigue, crime, and bloodshed. He contributes largely to the vic- 
tories of the Venetians at Porto d’Anzo and Chioggia, and finally 
wins the hand of the daughter of one of the chief men of Venice 

“ Every boy should read ‘ The Lion of St. Mark.’ Mr. Henry has never pro 
duced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious .” — Satur 
day Review. 

A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. 
Henty. With full-page Illustrations by W. B. Wollen„ 
12mo, cloth, price $1.00, 

The hero, a young English lad. after rather a stormy boyhood, 
emigrates to Australia, and gets etnployment as an officer in the 
mounted police. A few years of active work on the frontier, 
where he has many a brush with both natives and bushrangers, 
gain him promotion to a captaincy, and he eventually settles 
down to the peaceful life of a squatter. 

“ Mr. Henty has never published a more readable, a more carefully con- 
structed, or a better written story than this.”— Npecfafor. 

Under Drake’s Flag : A Tale of the Spanish Main. By G. A 
Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

A story of the days when England and Spain struggled for the 
supremacy of the sea. The heroes sail as lads with Drake in the 
Pacific expedition, arid in his great voyage of circumnavigation. 
The historical portion of the story is absolutely to be relied upon, 
hut this will perhaps be less attractive than the great variety of 
exciting adventure through which the young heroes pass in the 
course of their voyages. 

“ A book of adventure, where the hero meets with experience enough, one 
would think, to turn his hair gray.” — Harper's Monthly Magazine. 

By Sheer Pluck : A d ale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. Henty 

With full- page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 

cloth, price $1.00. 

The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the de 
tails of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. 
His hero, after many exciting adventures in the interior, is de- 
tained a prisoner by the king just before the outbreak of the war, 
but escapes, and accompanies the English expedit.on on their 
march to Coomassie. 

“ Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys’ stories. ‘ By Sheer 
^luok ’ will be eagerly read.” — Athenceum. 


I 


A. L. BtJRT’S PUBLICATIONS. 


By Pike and Dyke : A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic 
By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Maynard 
Brown, and 4 Maps. 12ino, cloth, price $1.00. 

In this story Mr. Henty traces the adventures and brave deeds 
of an English boy in the household of the ablest man of his age— 
William the Silent. Edward Martin, the son of an English sea* 
captain, enters the service of the Prince as a volunteer, and is em- 
ployed by him in many dangerous and responsible missions, inthe^ 
discharge of which he passes through the great sieges of the time, ' 
He ultimately settles down as Sir Edward Martin. 

“ Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the book, 
while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in spite of them 
selves.” — St, James' Gazette. 

St. George for England : A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers, By 
G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

No portion of English history is more crowded with great events 
than that of the reign of Edward III. Cressy and Poitiers; the 
destruction of the Spanish fleet; the plague of the Black Death; 
ti e Jacquerie rising; these are treated by the author in “ St. 
George for England.” The hero of the story, although of good 
family, begins life as a London apprentice, but after countless ad. 
venturfS and perils becomes by valor and good conduct the squire, 
and at last the trusted friend of the Black Prince. 

“Mr. Henty has developed for himself a type of historical novel for b^S 
which bids fair to supplement, on their behalf, the historical labors of Sir 
Walter Scott in the land of fiction.”— T/ie Standard. 

Captain’s Kidd’s Gold : The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor 
Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 12mo, clot i, price $1.00. 
There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very 
idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy 
Portuguese and Spanish rascais, with black beards and gleaming 
eyes — sinister-looking fellows who once on a time haunted the 
Spanish Main, sneaking out from some hidden creek in their long, 
low schooner, of picaroonish rake and sheer, to attack an unsus- 
pecting trading craft. There were many famous sea rovers iny 
their day, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Perhaps 
the most fascinating tale of all is Mr. Fitts’ true story of an adven. 
turous American boy, who receives from his dying father an 
ancient bit of vellum, which the latter obtained in a curious way. 
The documeni, bears obscure directions purporting to locate a cer- 
tain island in the Bahama group, and a considerable treasure 
buried There by two of Kidd’s crew. The hero of this book, 
Paul Jones Garry, is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water 
New England ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and 
secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for oui 
Fouth that has come from the press- 


A. L. BURT’S publications. 


7 


Cap' 'in Bayley’s Heir : A Tale of tbe Gold Fields of California, 

By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by H. M. 

Paget. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

A frank, manly lad and his cousin are rivals in the heirship'of a 
CO siderable property. The former falls into a trap laid by the 
latter, and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves 
England for America. He works his passage before the mast, 
joins a small band of hunters, crosses a tract of country infested 
with Indians to the Californian gold diggings, and is successful 
both as digger and trader. 

“ Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the 
humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Roll, the Westminstei 
dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled.""— Christian Leader. 

For Name and Fame ; or. Through Afghan Passes. By G. A 

Henty. With full -page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

An interesting story of the last war in Afghanistan. The hero, 
after being wrecked and going through many stirring adventures 
among the Malays, finds his way to Calcutta and enlists in a regi- 
mert proceeding to join tbe army at tbe Afghan passes. He ac- 
companies the force under General Roberts to the Peiwar Kotal, 
is wounded, taken prisoner, carried to Cabul, whence he is trans- 
ferred to Candahar, and takes part in the final defeat of the army 
of Ayoub Kban. 

“The best feature of the book— apart from the interest of its scenes of ad- 
venture— is its honest effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan 
people.”— X)at7y News. 

Captured by Apes : The Wonderful Adventures of a Young 

Animal Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

The scene of this tale is laid on an island in the Malay Archi« 
pelago. Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, of 
New York, sets sail for Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of 
living curiosities. The vessel is wrecked off the coast of Borneo 
and young Garland, the sole survivor of the disaster, is cast ashore 
on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the 
place. The lad discovers that the ruling spirit of tbe monkey 
tribe is a gigantic and vicious baboon, whom he identifies as 
Goliah, an animal at one time in bis possession and with whose 
instruction he bad been especially diligent. Tbe brute recognizes 
him, and with a kind of malignant satisfaction puts bis formei 
master through tbe same course of training be bad himself ex- 
perienced with a faithfulness of detail which shows bow astonish- 
ing is monkey recollection. Very novel indeed is tbe way by 
which tbe young man escapes death. Mr. Prentice has certainly 
worked a new vein on juvenile fiction, and the ability with which 
he handles a difficult subject stamps him as a writer of undoubted 
6kUl 


8 


A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIO '^S ' 


The Bravest of the Brave ; or, With Peterborough in Spain. 
By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by H M. 
Paget. 12m(>, cloth, price $1.00. 

There are few great leaders whose lives uud actions 
completely fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peter- 
borough. This is largely due to the fact that thev were over 
shadowed by the glory and successes of Marlborough. His caieer 
as general extended over l.ttle more than a year, and vet, in tha. 
time, he showed a genius for warfare which has never been sur 
passed. 

“ Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work - to8uu>r 
the doctrine of courage and truth. Lads will read ‘ TheBra'^est of the Bi ; 
with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure.'"— Daily Telegrap*-^ 

The Cat of Bubastes : A Story of Ancient Egypt. Bv 
Henty. With full-page Illustrations. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
A story which will give young readers an unsurpassed insight 
Into the customs of the Egyptian people. Amuba, a prince of the 
Rebu nation, is carried with his charioteer Jethro into slavery. 
They become inmates of the house of Ameres, the Egyptian high- 
p iest, and are happy in his service until the priest’s son acci- 
dentally kills the sacred cat of Bubastes. In an outburst of popular 
fury Ameres is killed, and it rests with Jethro and Amuba to 
secure the escape of the high-priest’s.son and daughter. 

“ The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the 
perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed 
and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated.”— 

Review. 

With Washington at Monmouth : A Story of Three Phila- 
delphia Boys. By James Otis. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

Three Philadelphia boys, Seth Graydon “ whose mother con- 
ducted a boarding-house which was patronized by the British 
officers;” Enoch Ball, “son of that Mrs. Ball wdiose dancing 
school was situated on Letitia Street,” and little Jacob, son of 
“Chris, the Baker,' serve as the principal characters. The 
story is laid during the winter when i^ord Howe held possession 
of the city, and the lads aid the causes by a-sisting the American 
spies who make r gular and frt'queiit visits from Valley Forge 
One reads here of home life in the captive city when bread wat 
scarce among the people of the lower classes, and a reckless prodi- 
gality shown by the British officers, who passed the winter in 
feasting and merry-making while the members of the patriot army 
but a few miles away were suffering from both cold and hunger. 
The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully 
drawn, and the glimpses of Washinrton’s soldiers which are given 
show that the work has not been ^iastily done, or without con- 
siderable study. 


A. L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS. 


9 


For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. 
Henty. With full-page Illustrations hy S. J. Solomon. 12mo, 
cloth, price $1.00. 

Mr. Henty here weaves into the record of JosepJius an admirable 
and attractive story. The troubles in the district of Tiberias, the 
march of the legions, the sieges of Jotapata, of Gamala, and of 
Jerusalem, form the impressive and carefully studied historic 
setting to the figure of the lad who passes from the vineyard to 
the service of Josephus, becomes the leader of a guerrilla bandol 
patriots, fights bravely for the Temple, and after a brief term of 
slavery at Alexandria, returns to his Galilean home with the favoj 
of Titus 

“Mr. Henty ’s graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to 
Roman sway add another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world.” 
— Graphic. 

Facing Death ; or. The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale oJ 
the (’oal Mines. By G. A. Henty, With tull-page Illustra- 
tions by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

“ Facing Death ” is a story with a purpose. It is intended to 
show that a lad who makes up his mind firmly and resolutely that 
he will rise in life, and who is prepared to face toil and ridicula 
end hardship to carry out his determination, is sure to succeed. 
The uo-o of the story is a typical British boy, dogged, earnest, 
generous, and though “ shamefaced’’ to a degree, is ready to face 
death in the discharge of duty. 

“ The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much reality In 
the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the lookout 
for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the 
book we would recommend.”— Standard. 

Tom Temple’s Career. By Horatio Alger. 12mo, cloth, 
price $1.00. 

Tom Temple, a bright, self-reliant lad, by the death of his 
father becomes a boarder at the home of Nathan Middleton, a 
penurious insurance agent. Though well paid for keeping the 
boy, Nathan and his wife endeavor to bring Master Tom in line 
with their parsimonious habits. The lad ingeniously evades their 
efforts and revolutionizes the household. As Tom is heir to 
$40,000, he is regarded as a person of some importance until by 
an unfortunate combination of circumstances his fortune shrinks 
to a few hundreds. He leaves Plympton village to seek work in 
New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to Call 
fornia, around which center the most exciting incidents of his 
young career. Some of his adventures in the far west are so 
startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last 
page shall have been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger’s 
most fascinating style, and is bound to please the very large class 
of boys who regard this popular author as a prime favorite. 


10 


. 'T'vcl- 

' y V / 

L. BURT’S PUBLICATIONS. vJ'/ 


Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By 
G. A. ILenty. With full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 
12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

The Renshaws emigrate to New Zealand during the period of 
the war with the natives. Wilfrid, a strong, self-reliant, coura- 
geous lad, is the mainstay of the household. He has for his friend 
Mr. Atherton, a botanist and naturalist of herculean strength and 
unfailing nerve and humor. In the adventures amo.. >i71auris, 
there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hope 
lessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing them- 
selves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealand valleys. 

“Brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting conversation, and 
vivid pictures of colonial Mti."— Schoolmaster. 

Julian Mortimerj: A Brave Boy’s Struggle for Home and Fortune 
By Harry Castlemon. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00. 

Here is a story that will warm every boy’s heart. There is 
mystery enough to keep any lad’s imagination wound up to the 
highest pitch. The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi 
River, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across 
the great plains to the land of gold. One of the startling features 
of the book is the attack upon the wagon train by a large party of 
Indians. Our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck, a brave 
young American in every sense of the word. He enlists and holds 
the reader’s sympathy from the outset. Surrounded by an un- 
known and constant peril, and assisted by the unswerving fidelity 
of a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the 
most happy results. Harry Castlemon has written many enter- 
taining stories for boys, and it would seem almost superfluous to 
say anything in his praise, for the youth of America regard him 
as a favorite author. 

“Carrots:” Just a Little Boy. By Mrs. Molesworth. With 
Illustrations by Walter Crane. 13mo, cloth, price 75 cents. 

“ One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good for- 
tune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delightful little 
beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond ot."— Examiner, 
“A genuine children’s book; we’ve seen ’em seize it, and read it greedily. 
Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane’ i 
illustrations. ’ '‘—Punch. 

Mopsa the Fairy. By Jean Ingelow. With Eight page 
Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents. 

“ Mrs. Ingelow is, to oifr mind, the most charming of all living writers for 
children, and ‘ Mopsa’ alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive right to 
the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius to conceive a 
purely imaginary work which must of necessity deal with the supernatural, 
without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; but genius Miss In- 
gelow has and the story of ‘Jack ’ is as careless and joyous, but as delicate, 
as a picture of childhood.’’— jEc/ecfic. 
















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